


Desperately Seeking Closure

by disquisitemind



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disquisitemind/pseuds/disquisitemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right before his Starfleet Graduation, Julian Bashir is exiled from the Federation.  Without many options available, he moves to the far out planet of Bajor, and searches for his mum, his peace of mind, and perhaps just some semblance of hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a (sort of) prequel to Dinner for Eight, which will be finished! But I had to get this off my mind first because it just wouldn't leave me alone. So, this universe is a little different than Canon. Like wings of a butterfly, one thing changes and everything else circumstantially changes as well. The Cardassian occupation of the Bajoran sector ends a several decades earlier, and therefore many things are slightly different because of it. These things are pretty easy to pick up on, so I should hope that nothing is too confusing! Anyway, thanks for listening to my rambling, and I hope you like it! :)

Julian waited patiently in the silence, hand nervously fingering the newly replicated housing stamp inside his sweater’s pocket. The shuttle’s door’s opened, and Julian stiffened immediately. All tentative hopes of having the run to himself were swept away, and in the case of another wave of anger or general hopelessness, Julian resigned that he would have to excuse himself, for the third time that day, rather than breakdown immediately.

He should have known better than to hope.

A woman with a sleeping child on her hip and a few pieces of baggage on her forearm entered the shuttle with deliberate slowness, her balancing act no small feat. Although Julian felt more like a collage of weathered down stones assembled into some semblance of a man, rather than a real live person, he could still feel his mother’s encouraging thwack at the back of his head. “Let me help you with that.” He volunteered, stiffly walking over to meet her.

With a grateful look, she said, “Oh, thank you! I worried I was going to drop something any second. I’m torn between Molly or my microscope.” She handed him the first black satchel from her forearm, which, Julian relented, was much heavier than it looked. Still however, he lifted it with perfect ease, carefully shoving it into the cubby above in the aisle. “You’re stronger than you look,” she commented, not at all realizing how offensive that sounded. “My husband always grunts and groans whenever I make him handle my tools, always makes a big fuss.”

Julian smiled awkwardly, not in the slightest mood for small talk. The past week left him numb, the Federation giving him not one moment of peace. He gestured for the next bag and she handed it off with a gracious grin, “He’s usually here to send me off,” she continued, not bothered by his silence, “Miles is an engineer you know, in Starfleet.” The last was said with a bit of admiration, and a touch of embellishment wrapping around the ‘t’, as if to say that she didn’t mind that Miles wasn’t there to see her off, because he was off doing important things for important people.

A month ago, Julian would’ve rushed to impart to her that he too would be in Starfleet as a fully fledged Medical Doctor. That he was close to being Valedictorian, that he would have the first pick of assignments. That he was going to be a hero. Instead, he gestured for her third bag.

She slung it off her shoulder to Julian’s outstretched arm, and using her free hand, she shifted her child further up her hip, holding Molly easily with both arms. Her eyes flickered down his torso and up to his face, eyes narrowed in inspection. She tilted her head curiously, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

He froze, a chill trickling down his spine not unlike a sharpened knife grazing his skin. “Oh- I don’t think so.” He said, shoving the last of the bags into the cubby and closing the door with a firm click.

“No, no,” she waved a hand, “Let me guess; are you a tennis player? Because Miles-”

“I’m afraid not.” Julian shifted his stance, hand scratching the back of his neck apologetically, “Not anymore. I’m sorry, you must be mistaken.”

“I see.” She said, “I probably am, I’m terrible with faces.” They stood awkwardly in the silence for a moment, “I’m Keiko O’brien,” she said, introducing herself in such a well-mannered way that Julian immediately felt guilty for the impossible helplessness that bled out of his pores.

“Julian,” he greeted in return.

“Julian--?”

“Just Julian.” He said, wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers. Who knew how fast word got around. If Starfleet was anything like the Academy, it would pretty fast. A part of him wanted to keep the anonymity of a faceless passenger for a little bit longer, to let a tired mother and child rest easy without the knowledge that they were sharing the shuttle with a “Criminal Augment with Violent Tendencies.”

“Well, thank you for your help, Just Julian.” She teased, sitting down with a sigh. He nodded then waved awkwardly as he moved to return to his seat, “Wait a moment,” she interrupted, “why don’t you sit by me? Bajor is a while away, and it’s silly for us to sit so far apart when we’re the only ones here.” Keiko set Molly on the farthest seat by the window, tenderly leaning her head against the frame, “Come,” she patted the aisle chair, “be sociable with me.”

Julian gave a final glance at his seat, knowing that he was much too polite to say no, and gathered up every willful piece of energy he could find, and returned to take the seat next to her. She smiled brightly, which made the whole trip a little less unbearable. “Isn’t this nice?” Keiko asked rhetorically, patting his hand for good measure. “These shuttles are always booked solid, never a dull moment on a run, usually. I’m a botanist, so obviously I’m always one for adventure.” Julian didn’t really think that botany and adventure went hand in hand, but he decided to take her word on it, nodding along as if he knew all about plants and sorts. “I’ve seen that look,” Keiko said, crossing her arms in mock disparagement, “but the wilderness is the most dangerous species of all. Word to the wise,” she leaned forward, and Julian curiously leaned into it. In a harsh whisper that was unbecoming of a woman her size, she insisted, “never trust a beautiful flower. They are always the most poisonous.”

For some reason, that Julian would surely psychoanalyze later, this was the most hilarious thing anyone could have said. His lips pulled wide into a toothy grin, and he laughed lightly for the first time that week, and in a short moment he crowed in the hilarity of it all, his belly twisting painfully and his chest heaving. Soon enough, Keiko joined him. “I’m sorry,” he apologized through his laughter, “I don’t know why- you’re so bloody dramatic.”

“I am aren’t I?” She agreed, her mouth hidden behind her fisted hand, “Oh my god, Miles was so right!”

“About what?”

She shook her head with a smile, and in a terrible irish accent she mocked, “He said, ‘Plants bring out your wild side, Keiko! You’re positively cracked!”

Tears formed in the corner of his eyes, as he guffawed, “Your wild side!”

“I know!” Red in the face, Keiko covered her mouth with her hands, as if to hide the fact that she was cracking up beyond the normal interval of hilarity. “I know.” She said again, and their glee diminished into short titters of wild side’s and I know’s, before rescinding into a relaxed silence.

“He was supposed to see me off.” Keiko said again, a bit of melancholy finding its way into her voice. “I won’t be back for a while.” Folding her hands in her lap, her eyes shifted up to his with an embarrassed smile, “I yelled at him for working instead of saying good-bye. It feels sort of silly now.”

“I understand,” He replied, for the first time in his life, with absolute sincerity. Julian had unwittingly learned many lessons these past few days. The kind of lessons that can only be learned the hard way. “Perhaps you have a couple minutes to find him, I can watch-”

“No, I don’t think so.” Keiko said knowingly, as the shuttle doors closed and locked. The intercom sounded, the driver informing his bleak amount of passengers of their upcoming destination.

“One way ticket to Ashalla, Bajor. Home to the people of the prophets and batty reality holoprograms.”

Julian doubted that tagline was anything close to Bajoran approved, if the brief history he read that morning was anything to go by. Still, it had a nice ring to it, and Julian was the last person to censure against one’s creative license.

Keiko rolled her eyes, and turned to Julian, “So, what brings you to the Bajoran capital?”

His hand wandered back into his pocket, feeling again for his housing stamp, a comfort amongst the chaos that became his life. “It’s my home.” He said quietly, reflecting that it wasn’t quite a lie, because as of now, it was.

 

* * *

 

 

The stoned paths buzzed with city staffers and brazen tourists, crowds of people swaying back and forth by intervenes of naughty children and the judicious elbows of late passengers. The sun dipped beneath the bristling red leaves, the air cooling considerably into a breezy autumn sunset. Julian huffed warm air into his cupped hands, his newly printed housing register closed tightly in between his thumb and his forefinger. His lack of scarf was a short-lived regret, his mind moving elsewhere, back to turned over scenes of shock and dismissal. Back to an intimate past better off forgotten.

How could he forget?

A new city, crisp and unfamiliar, with all things that were fresh and exciting. Only Julian could make a clean slate a walk of the damned. The icy fingertips of the wind pinched his red-rimmed ears, which only served as a reminder of the frigid stare of his roommate, and the tight band of the hand cuffs, digging into his wrists because they weren’t made for him. They weren’t for him. They couldn’t be.

His new home was a different kind of iron, unfitted and unrelenting. Although Julian always knew that this would be a possibility, it never occurred to him that he would be alone. Stuffing the paper back in his pocket, he hitched his bag more firmly over his shoulder. Then, rehearsing his introduction for the last time, he stepped up to the empty counter, “Excuse me, miss?”

A younger woman looked up from a small game she was playing in the corner of the booth, and sheepishly joined him near the counter, “Yes, can I help you?”

“Your sign says you have free communicators?”

She perked up and waved him back, lifting the divider to let him through, “Straight down that hallway,” she pointed to the doorway, “on your right. Transmission devices are in the corner.” He thanked her, hoping that Erskine’s transmission code hadn’t changed in the past month. Stepping over a couple empty boxes and an out of place toolkit, he wound his way around the corner, feeling against the walls in the dimly lit corridor. Hand stopping at a vertical base board, he turned right, and went straight to the corner transmission device, which looked like a piece of junk that hadn’t seen an update in the past ten years, rather than any workable machine.

Beggars can’t be choosers, he reminded himself grimly, then sat down. Dubiously typing in the coordinates, he sent out the transmission dial, crossing his fingers not only for the hunk of junk to work.

He heard his voice before any clear picture image followed up, “Oh- You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, mate, seriously? You can fuck right off. Whatever it is, you can ask someone else.” Apparently the apparatus was working fine on their end.

“Don’t end the line, please, I’ll only be a moment I promise!” The screen was fuzzy, but Julian could make out a very miffed looking roommate, which wasn’t all that surprising to be honest.

“Do I have a moment? No I don’t think I do! You’re lucky, by the way, I was supposed to move out yesterday.”

“I know. I feel like the luckiest man in the world right now.” Julian replied sarcastically, which upon immediate reflection, probably wasn’t one of his brightest ideas.

Erskine’s face fell, slightly, a nostalgic look overtaking his angry features. He shook his head, “God- You’re so fucked, mate. Fucked yourself right over, there, didn’t you?” With a rueful laugh, he leaned back into his chair, “What do you want?”

Julian thought about prolonging his visit; he thought about joking about why he called, but in the grander scheme of things, he didn’t have time. Bypassing polite assurances, and needless wheelding, he admitted, “I need help finding my mum.”

Erskine pulled back from the screen, surprised, “In prison?”

“She’s not in prison.”

“I don’t understand. I mean, I get why you got off scot free,” Julian didn’t quite agree that he got off scot free, and so he thought about letting the comment pass, “but I thought your mum and dad were fucked over.”

“Well, my dad’s in prison, my mum got the same sentence as me-Scot Free- I think, the lawyerly term is.”

“Well, isn’t the Feds supposed to tell you? I mean, they have to keep track of your whereabouts right? And your mums too?”

Julian clenched his fist somewhat painfully, frustration bubbling underneath his skin, “I requested information, but no one’s given me any answers.”

His roommate scoffed, scratching the top of his head, “Well, you probably didn’t try enough, honestly. It takes persistence to get these guys to open up.”

“I have tried!” He cried somewhat frantically, “I’ve tried, over and over again I’ve tried. During my trial, my sentencing, everything! I kept asking about my parents, but they never told me anything! I haven’t seen them in over a month. They only reason I know about their sentencing is because our files are on public record!”

“Oh-” he replied in a shocked sort of way, “oh- that’s fucked.”

“I know.”

“So- I mean- what do you want me to do about it?”

“I have no idea where she is!” He emphasized, hands shaking, “I don’t know where she went. Mum hasn’t had a job in the last twenty years! What the fuck is she supposed to do? I don’t even know if she’s okay,” his breath hitched, and he took a moment. Julian covered his mouth with one hand, and shook his head. In an even voice that he didn’t quite know he was capable of, he said, “I need to find her.”

“I’m sorry.” Erskine said finally, “I don’t know how to help you.”

“But-”

“I’m a Starfleet Officer now, Bashir. I can’t go asking questions for criminals.”

“You have to!” He pleaded, desperation clawing up his throat.

“I can’t.”

“I’m not a criminal,” he said at last, close to tears, “I’m your friend.”

“I’m sorry.” Erskine said again, in a voice that Julian immediately despised, because, after everything, Julian could tell that he was.

“Me too.” He said quietly, after a moment of terse silence.

Erskine leaned forward and flicked the transmission off, leaving Julian in the darkness once again.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, kicking the junky computer lightly. He folded his hands over his face, leaning his elbows on the desk, and counted in slow deep breaths.

“Um- excuse me?” Julian jumped in a startled breath, and turned around to see the girl from the counter edging into the doorway uncomfortably, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she began, “but, if you’re looking for information, I know a guy.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I know, that sounds sketchy, but he’s the real deal. I heard that he was some kind of sleeper spy from the Federation.” Julian considered this, even though there was no way that was true. The Federation didn’t have a spy agency, and especially not a secret one. They had morals, after all. However, the thought was intriguing. What kind of man could inspire such blatantly false rumors? “I mean, he knows everything from small town gossip to intergalactic government secrets. If you need to find someone, he’s the guy to ask.”

“Where can I find him?”

She looked at him, her cheeks pulled up and her lips pressed into a thin grimace. “Well...”


	2. Chapter 2

Julian wrapped his new scarf tightly around his neck, stuffing his bare hands into his well worn pockets, as he quickly shuffled across the busy intersection, ignoring the shouts of disapproval and rude gestures that were carried past by the biting wind. The vehicles whizzed by as his threadbare shoes made contact with the stone colored pavement, passerbyers distinctly not making eye contact as he searched up and down the street for his destination.

It was cold.

The brightly colored pamphlet he picked up at the Starfleet Oasis sation didn’t quite mention that Ashalla was not only the center for Bajoran tourism and trade, but also really fucking cold. Stepping out of his door that morning was not unlike taking a brisk plunge under frozen water, his eyes instinctively gluing themselves shut and his body just about going into shock with the temperature difference.

He flexed his fingers, his joints almost numb after his long walk from the residential district. Deciding to keep along with the crowd, he jogged into the mass of firmly layered Bajorans, eyes downturned from the bright grey clouds overhead. They seemed to huddle together despite their determination to leave the fact unacknowledged. Julian found himself stuck near the center of the crowd, and seemingly by the crowds design, almost missed the salon to his right.

“Excuse me- pardon- just trying to-” Julian stumbled out from the pack and darted underneath the Salon’s bright black awning, a small light flickering overhead despite it only being mid-morning. The clipped breeze struck full force at his lone figure, and Julian quickly wrestled the door open and slipped inside.

A small jingle sounded as he pulled the door shut, the warmth of the inside close to painful on his weathered face. There was a small waiting area, which he bypassed to go straight to the reception counter. A woman sat at the desk in a tall chair, her hair curled into a messy bun, lips smacking at a piece of candy in her mouth. Julian tentatively walked up to her desk, “Hello, I beg your pardon,” he began, hands winding themselves tight inside his jacket. Her eyes flickered up to him then back to her magazine. She flipped the page. “Right, well I’m looking for someone? He works here, I believe.”

She gave no indication that she heard him, only flipping the page again. Then, right as he was about to speak up, she asked, “You got an appointment?”

“Um, no?- sorry, will that be a problem, because-”

Stepping off her stool, she turned toward the blank monitor, “I’ll set you up. What are you looking to have done?”

He paused, then asked, “For my problem?”

“For your hair.” She corrected.

Julian bristled, his hand instinctively reaching up to fix said hair, which in her defense, probably did look terrible, “I’m not here for my hair,” he said, a tad defensively, “I’m here for Mr. Garak.”

Her fingers froze over the touchboard, then in a slow movement she reclaimed her seat, decidedly looking anywhere but him, “Who? I haven’t heard of him, try next door.”

“Mr. Garak,” Julian repeated uncomfortably, giving an embarrassed look over his shoulder. “This is the Meditation and Healing Salon correct? This is where I was told to go.”

Looking irrevocably ruffled, she pulled at the loose strands of hair that framed her face, then with a determined set in her shoulders she insisted, “If you don’t know who you’re looking for, leave.”

Julian blinked, a whole month’s agony and despair catching up to him very quickly, before a voice piped up from behind him, “He isn’t called that here.” Julian turned, a Bajoran woman with delicate features looked at him with an admonishing pout, her arms crossed with nothing short of disapproval.

“He’s not?”

“No.” She said, pushing past him to walk behind the counter beside her co-worker. “Either you know who you’re looking for, or you don’t. If you don’t,” she placed her hands on the desk, and leaned forward, “I suggest you find out.”

Annoyance prickled beneath his tightly wound composure, “Listen, miss-”

“My name is Mardah.”

“Mardah, then-”

“And this is Leeta,” Mardah introduced, gesturing beside her, “which you would have known if you asked when you arrived.”

“And Leeta,” he continued slowly, nodding to the woman in the chair, “I didn’t come here to be difficult, but I need to speak with Mr. Garak. We both know,” he waved a hand between them, “that you know who I’m talking about. So can we forget this little tete-a-tete, and get to the part where I can see him?”

Mardah smiled, her plum painted lips lifting into a gentle, “No.”

“No?” Julian repeated, his voice hitching higher into a frantic whine.

“That’s right,” she returned, with a sanctimonious tilt to her head. “No.”

He couldn’t listen to this. The cautious hope that wrapped itself around his heartstrings snapped, his breath coming through only in short stutters. Heart thudding against his ribcage, the Salon all of a sudden seemed much smaller than it was. “Fine.” He said shortly. Giving the reception counter a small tap he stalked out of the reception and out the door. Stepping into the cold, Julian’s eyes watered immediately, his harsh breaths coming out in small white clouds. “Fuck.” He muttered aloud, kicking the stone building. “Shit, ouch,” his toes curled in on themselves, as Julian pursed his lips into a tight grimace. A father glared at him as he passed, hurrying his daughter along with an insistent hand on her back. “Sorry!” He apologized, hand stretched out in their direction, then, a little helplessly, “Shit!”

Was this it then? Was this chilly autumn afternoon the end of his search? Was this shitty black awning the end of every scrap of his hope? With a determined set in his jaw, Julian Bashir decided that it was not, and stalked right back into that run-down salon.

The girls perked up at his return as he made his way straight toward them. “Look,” he started without letting them get a word in, “I don’t know what kind of business you’re running here, but I am not leaving until you open that little book of yours, and make me an appointment with Mr. Garak, or whatever the fuck you call him here. I have just been stripped of my profession, my friends, and the only place that I can truly call home, and I will never, ever see any of them again. God, I’m never going to see them again,” he repeated, saying this for the first time aloud. “Don’t you dare take my family away from me too. You make an appointment with Mr. Garak for me right now, or I’ll-” Both the girls straightened, a fearful look in their eyes that reminded him to unclench his fist, to take a step back, to say in a lighter tone, “or I’ll report you to the proper authorities.”

They relaxed minutely, the terrified spark gone from their eyes, a bit of understanding edging its way into the creases of their cheeks. “I don’t know what to tell you,” Leeta began reproachfully, “but honestly we hear stories like this everyday, and we can’t go setting up appointments with every guy that comes in. You have to understand, we’re not a charity, we’re a business. A business like ours can’t run conspicuously.” Her words were chosen carefully, a practiced edge to them, “I truly am sorry, -?”

“My name is Julian,” he answered, then humorously added, “which you would’ve known if you had asked when I arrived.”

Mardah snorted and shook her head, “Look, Julian, it’s like she said, we’re not a charity.” Taking in his rimrod stance and flexing fingers, she allowed, “But, if you had something to offer, maybe we could let you know if he’s in.”

Julian thought back to his quickly dwindling credit account, “I’m not rich-” he began, but she shook her head again.

“She’s not talking about money,” Leeta cut in, leaning forward provocatively, “skill-set, honey.”

He eyed her for a moment, then coughed with a smile, looking away quickly, “I see.”

“Well?” Mardah crossed her arms.

“I’m a doctor. Quite good, actually.” He said honestly. “You’ve been favoring your right leg. I could take a look if you’d like.”

Mardah raised her eyebrows, taken aback, “How did you-” then paused, a look of consideration crossing her features. She tapped her pen against the desk and slowly relented, “I think you have a deal, Doctor.”

“Really?” Julian let out a relieved sigh, “That’s great! Thank you, thank you so much!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mardah leaned forward, “don’t go spreading it around, okay?”

He nodded, relief and hope pumping through him like pure oxygen, “Okay, fair enough. So, what do you need me to-”

“When we need you, we’ll let you know,” Mardah answered. Taking a small notebook from beside the monitor. She placed it on the desk and pushed it toward him, handing him the pen as well, “Name and transmission coordinates.”

He nodded again, and picked up the pen, quickly scribbling down his name and newly acquired code, “Can I see him then?”

“Well,” Leeta began, picking up a large fold out calendar from underneath the desk. She pretended to study it, “Nope, doesn’t look like he’s in today,” she said from behind the paper. “Try again tomorrow.”

“So, he’ll be in tomorrow, then?” Julian asked hopefully.

“Come in tomorrow and find out,” Leeta said, folding the paper back up.

Julian crossed his arms reflexively, eyebrows pulled together in distaste, “I have to say, I’m not sure I like how this Mr. Garak runs his business.”

Leeta and Mardah exchanged an amused look, “Oh, trust me,” Mardah said with a smirk, “we’ll let him know.”


	3. Chapter 3

And so, Julian returned the next day, scarf in place, and gloves warming his hands, crossing the street like a normal person rather than a tennis ball, bouncing out of bounds. The crowd of the mid-morning rush were still huddled together, and Julian joined them, ears numb and nose running. Only stepping on a few toes, he extracted himself from the group, and made his way toward the door under the still flickering light.

It jingled, just as the day before, and he beelined toward reception once again, his steps lighter and his hopes higher. He knocked on the wood, knuckles close to brushing the magazine Leeta was reading. She flipped the page. He opened his mouth to ask about Mr. Garak’s availability, “He’s not here.” Leeta informed him, smacking a piece of candy with her tongue. “Try tomorrow.”

Julian’s heart fell, and he swallowed, “Very well, tomorrow it is.”

* * *

 Tomorrow it wasn’t.

* * *

 Or the day after.

 Or the day after that. 

* * *

"I think he’s on holiday,” Mardah said finally, filing her nails with quick precision. “Probably off with that old lady of his.” Leeta snorted from behind her, laughing at Mardah or the magazine, Julian couldn’t tell.

“So you have no idea when he’ll be back?” Julian asked helplessly. “My situation is kind of time sensitive, you know.”

Mardah shrugged, “What do you want me to do about it? I said I’d tell you when he get’s here, and I will. Now off you go,” she gave him a condescending little wave, “try again tomorrow.”

 

As tomorrow’s sun filtered into Julian’s tinted window that next morning, the whole ordeal seemed much less agonizing. Whether it was a good night’s sleep or repressed emotions, Mr. Garak’s holiday didn’t quite feel like the end of the world. In fact, Julian sipped his tea slowly that breakfast, instead of draining half his cup and tossing the rest in the sink, (an action that would have his mother gasping in horror). As he sat in the silence, hands resting around his mug, Julian decided that perhaps he should take a break that day, take a sidestep away from the constant buzzing and overturn of dreadful worries that never solved anything. Today he deserved to relax.

A cool mid-morning stroll, followed by a short bout of window shopping did wonders to his frayed nerves. As a woman with overly curled hair and rosy cheeks passed him by, the run-down Salon distantly beckoned him to it’s door. With a put-upon sigh, Julian followed his natural inclination, and wound his way toward the two beautiful receptionists in the late afternoon.

The streets were quiet as he made his way toward their little shop, the breeze biting as he kept to his lonesome paths, no packs of people to make the journey just the littlest bit more bearable. He puffed cold breaths as he passed each little shop, each door firmly locked, window shades pulled down. Julian stumbled as he tripped on an inconveniently placed stack of chairs, catching himself just barely. Regaining his footing, he jogged the last little bit up to the Salon, catching the door on it’s upswing, “Allow me,” he said pleasantly, holding the door open for someone who took the meaning of winter to an entirely new level. If they were wearing white, Julian would mistake them for a large snowball rather than a sentient person. Snowball uttered a small thank you, stepping out quickly, then shuffled down the walk as if their clothing prevented them to walk any faster. With one last look, Julian entered the shop, a wave of warm air washing over his face, and skipped toward the counter.

“Where were you?” Mardah shouted the moment he came into view.

He halted at the desk, confused, “When?”

She rolled her eyes, “This morning. You always come in the morning, why weren’t you here?”

“Why wasn’t I-” he paused, then a look of realization crossed his face, “Oh shit! No, no no. Shit! You said he was on holiday!” He accused.

“He’s not anymore, or at least he wasn’t,” she said regretfully, eyes sliding downward, “you missed him.”

Julian lost his breath, and his heart stopped beating as the world that soared by came to a sudden halt. A small, “How?” escaped his lips, the heat all of a sudden close to insufferable.

Mardah crossed her arms, an apologetic look the only source of comfort she gave, “Just a moment ago, you missed him. I tried to get a hold of you,” she reached underneath and pulled out her notebook, opening it up to a few pages in, “but who can read that handwriting? I swear, even across galaxies, Doctors are all the same.”

“I’m sorry-” he interrupted, heart jerking back into motion, “you said I ‘ _just’_ missed him?”

“Well- yeah-” He didn’t wait for her to finish, turning back toward the door, he bolted toward the exit with just a string of hope in his palm. She called after him, “You can’t do that!” But he wasn’t listening. Hurtling over another misplaced chair, he tumbled out the door, and sprinted down the pathway, air whipping across his face in retaliation.

“Mr. Garak!” He half shouted, the air too cold to get a good breath in, “Please wait, Mr. Garak!” In the distance, he could see the the snowball man halt, confusedly looking backward at Julian’s lithe figure speeding towards him. “Yes, Mr. Garak!” he shouted again, waving ridiculously and keeping his stride.

Catching up, Julian slowed to a jog, his lungs clenching painfully in his chest. “Thank you,” he said once he closed the last bit of distance between them, “for stopping.” He coughed, a harsh tickle at the apex of his throat, then held out his hand, which the man dubiously stared at. “You are Mr. Garak, correct? Don’t tell me I just made myself a fool in front of a random stranger?” Julian smiled.

The stranger didn’t smile back, only gave him a doubtful look, as if Julian’s words were both useless and incomprehensible. “I am.” He said slowly, “However I haven’t the faintest clue as to how you know that, or why you’re harassing me on my way home.”

Julian gaped, “I’m not harassing you.” He replied, a little cross with the whole idea. “I just wanted to talk.” If anything Mr. Garak looked even more confused, so Julian rushed to explain, “You’re the information guy right? I ask you to find someone and supposedly you can find them, ring any bells?”

Mr. Garak’s eyes widened in clarity, which then quickly turned into extreme displeasure, “Strange that you need me, since you seem to have all the answers already!” He shook his head and turned away, continuing down the road.

Julian hurried in front of him, then skipped backwards beside Mr. Garak as he made his way along, “I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, or if i’m not doing this right,” Julian began, almost tripping over his own heel, “but I really do need your help. If you could just listen-” a well placed crack in the walk shifted his balance, so that up was down, and so that Mr. Garak was gone. He grunted, rolling over. Dusting off his pants he limped to catch up. “Wait, please wait!” Julian called out, swearing every other step. Pushing forward, he swung his arm out, and caught Mr. Garak’s hand in his own, spinning him around in a full stop. Even through his gloved hands, he could feel Mr. Garak’s frozen fingertips, and a distant question of his scaly knuckles waved in the back of his mind. Mr. Garak, _a Cardassian_?

“Is this really necessary?” Mr. Garak asked peevishly, anger waning into just pure annoyance. His eye twitched slightly, the small area just above his eye ridge tensing in a familiar indication of pain. _I can’t be giving him a headache already!_ He thought, incredulously. “I don’t have time for this.” Mr. Garak persisted, trying to tug his hand out of Julian’s steady grip.

“Please?” He tightened his hold on Mr. Garak’s hand, “Please, just hear me out.”

“Absolutely not.”

“That’s not good enough.” He demanded, “You have to.” The words stumbled out before Julian could stop them and his breath hitched as Mr. Garak snapped toward him.

Advancing in quick predatory strides, he crossed into Julian’s space, “Oh, please, enlighten me on what I must and must not do?” The air around them suspended, Julian’s breath pulled tight by the sharpness of Mr. Garak’s stare. It’s intensity was very intimidating, and Julian immediately regretted opening his mouth, considering that it was a terrible idea, and god, why didn’t he think things through?

He stuttered, “Um- I-”

“Yes, _you_?” Mr. Garak prompted pointedly.

Julian leaned back, trying to gain some semblance of control, fingernails pressing half-crescents into his palm. “I need you to help me,” He started, regaining his confidence, “because I’m alone, and you’re really the only one that can.”

“And this matters to me, how?”

“Isn’t that what you do?” Asked Julian helplessly, “Make other people’s problems your problem? Help people when they can’t help themselves? Don’t you gain some satisfaction out of that work?”

“If you’re trying to make a point, I suggest you make it.”

Julian scoffed disbelievingly, “You just don’t want to help me because I’m absolute shit at this, right? Because I’m not doing this properly?”

“It is not a question of what you do,” Mr. Garak began to lecture, “It’s a question of when and where you do it. To obnoxiously accost me here?” He gestured to the shops around them, “Not only is it improper, it’s reckless and it endangers both me and my constituents. I like my anonymity, in fact, my practice demands it. At this very moment, helping you is akin to slicing my enterprise wide open for the Provisional Government to dismantle bit by bit.” Mr. Garak’s eyes narrowed in, the empty sidewalk impossibly closing in, pushing them into each other’s space.

An energy wound it’s way around Julian’s shoulders, and held him upright, giving him the confidence to say, “I’m ready when you are.”

Mr. Garak studied him for a moment, looking down at Julian’s gloved hand clutching his cranberry hued fingers, the cold quickly chilling him to the bone. He sighed, overblown and testy, “Very well.”

“Seriously? Thank you, thank you.” Julian kissed his frozen knuckles and hugged him, which was overdoing it, just a bit, but Julian found that he couldn’t quite care at the moment. “God, you won’t regret this.” He assured, still hugging the overly bundled man tightly in his arms.

Mr. Garak didn’t hug him back, only sighed impatiently, with an ever cool exterior, “If you’re quite finished?” Julian startled, and immediately stepped away, not yet embarrassed, but conscientious nonetheless. Mr. Garak gave him a long-suffering look, “Meet me at the Salon, tomorrow, at nine-hundred hours, no later, understand?”

Julian nodded, “Yes, of course, tomorrow, nine-hundred hours, no later. Got it.”

“Good, and one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“If you ever approach me outside that Salon about this business, I will have you eradicated from this city. Do we understand each other?”

Julian gulped, “Perfectly.”

Mr. Garak smiled, a ruthless tick in his cheek that was both fascinating and terrifying, “Good.” And he turned around and stalked off, scarf billowing behind him.

Julian pumped a fist in the air. “Oh, yes, thank you, thank you,” He said under his breath to any god that might be listening, “it’s going to be okay.” He breathed a deep sigh of relief, jitters winding down into relaxed shivers, “Fuck, it really is going to be okay.” Expelling a short laugh, Julian covered his hands over his face.

He heard the trek of someone jogging toward him in the distance, before slowing to a halt at his side, “Did you talk to him?” Julian nodded, and she expelled a short sigh, “Is he going to kill you?” He shook his head. “That’s lucky huh?” Julian opened his eyes and looked through the cracks of his fingers. Mardah smiled, and patted his shoulder, “Good on you, then.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it,” he let out another jittery laugh, “thank you, truly, thank you so much, Mardah.” Then, probably against her better wishes, he pulled her forward too, and wrapped his arms around her thin shoulders.

She snorted and hugged him back, and then in a soft voice whispered, “It’s gonna be alright, Doc. He’ll find them, whoever you’re looking for.”

His body relaxed, and leaned against her for support. Shifting his chin from the top of her head, he pressed his nose into the crevice between her neck and shoulder, “I’m sorry, I just-”

“It’s fine.” She said, tightening her grip around his waist, “I don’t mind.”

It was a while before Leeta met up with them, Salon keys in hand, “So is this goodbye or good job?”

They pulled apart, Julian quickly wiping his eyes, and sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, “Good job, I suppose?” He asked, turning toward Mardah.

She smiled, and agreed, “One less casualty for us to carry.”

Leeta smiled, and pulled them both into a quick group hug, “Oh that’s fabulous!” Leaning up she kissed Julian’s cheek, “Leave it to the Doc to melt the old man’s heart.”

Julian rolled his eyes, “I don’t think I melted his heart so much as I annoyed him into meeting with me.” The girls exchanged an indecipherable look, and a moment later linked arms with Julian on both sides.

“Why don’t you buy us some coffee, Doctor?” Mardah requested with a smirk.

“Yeah, buy us some coffee.” Leeta agreed from his left.

Julian exhaled a large, exasperated sigh, “If I must, I suppose-” Leeta smacked his bicep, pulling him along with Mardah in tow. “Careful, careful,” Julian stumbled behind her, “this body was very expensive,” he said, the joke immediately leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

Leeta gave him a puzzled look, and rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry, Doctor, Mardah and I will take very good care of you.”

“Is that a promise?” Julian asked lowly, his lips crinkling into a small smile. Mardah gagged from behind him.

Leeta looked over her shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes, giving a noncommittal shrug, “If you’re good.”

He preened under her gaze, and leaned toward her to catch the floral scent of her perfume, “What if I just can’t help being bad?” Leeta giggled prettily in response, pulling him into the dimly lit cafe.

“Go buy us some drinks, and maybe you’ll find out.” She taunted, pushing him gently toward the long line of Bajoran customers.

He watched as she pulled Mardah toward the lone empty table. Leeta picked up the left behind coffee mugs and returned them up to the counter, Mardah saving the spot for the three of them.  
Julian caught her eye, and nodded to her, grinning boyishly. She waved back ironically, resting her cheek in her palm.

A while later, after the sun dipped below the horizon, grey clouds shifting into a pinkish overcast, Leeta waved goodbye to Mardah and Julian as she entered her home for the evening. They continued down the sidewalk as she closed her door. Julian sent Mardah a considering look.

“Do you think Leeta’s interested in me?” Julian asked out of the blue.

Apparently this question wasn’t as surprising to Mardah, who just sighed, “Of course she’s interested, you big flirtatious mess.” She scuffed her shoe on the pavement, kicking a non-existent rock, “I don’t know if you were sitting at the coffee table that last hour, but I definitely was.”

Julian nodded up at the sky, hands clasped behind his back. “She’s very beautiful,” He said wistfully. Then repeated “ _very beautiful_ ,” mind traveling elsewhere very quickly.

Mardah scowled, pulling her hat forcefully over her ears, “Yeah, I get it, she’s pretty. No need to put an accent on it, okay?”

He blinked, and snapped toward her incredulously, “What’s your problem? I’m just making conversation.”

“Truly riveting conversation it is too.” She said sarcastically, picking up her pace and walking ahead.

“Hey, wait up,” Julian called out. “How am I supposed to walk you home if you’re all the way up there?” Mardah lifted her arm in a rude gesture, but slowed down anyway, and waited for Julian to catch up. He clicked his tongue once he closed the gap between them, “There, now was that so hard?” They turned together and continued past the string of dimly lit apartments, “We don’t have to talk about Leeta if you don’t want to. Though, I have no idea why. She’s your friend, after all, and I have a feeling that I’m becoming your friend too,” He said, bumping her lightly. Mardah stuffed her hands forcefully into her jacket’s pockets, “Come on. Say it. I know you want to,” he teased, “say I’m your friend.”

Mardah looked at him from the corner of her eye, a small smile creeping on her face, “How do you turn it off and on so easily?” She asked, which quickly brought Julian to a full halt.

“Excuse me?”

Her eyes flickered upward, and she bit her tongue. Spinning around she treaded backwards, silently considering Julian as he picked up his pace and followed her, “One moment you’re Mister Impressive Doctor,” she broached, “scanning injuries from miles away, and demanding the extraordinary out of total strangers, and then all of a sudden,” she paused, shyly looking away, “you’re this long eared Tokka, tail wagging, nose sniffing every little bush it sees.” Mardah sniffed, uncomfortably pulling her hair back over her shoulders. “You don’t make much sense to me.” She admitted, at last.

“I’m an open book!” Julian defended, unsure of what else to say to that accusation.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it,” Mardah rushed in, “you’re very nice,” then, “I haven’t ruined everything have I?--”

“It’s fine!” Julian assured her, “God, it’s fine, you’re fine.” She looked up at him disbelievingly, “Truly. You aren’t wrong.” His hands waved limply at his sides, “I’m just complicated, that’s all.”

“You’re complicated?” She reiterated, then bit her lip to stop herself from giggling.

“I am.” Julian looked at her with a very serious look, “I have a deep dark past, with deep dark secrets. I’m a very complicated man. My emotions are in constant turmoil. Honestly, the only thing that gets me through the day is the knowledge that the chaos will someday end,” he paused, and looked coyly through his eyelashes. “Well, that, and beautiful women.”

She let out an exasperated bark of laughter, “Prophets, Doctor, you are incorrigible.”

“Well,” he said, wheeling her back forward, and slinging an arm over her shoulder, “everyone’s got to be something.”

“You can be anything you want,” Mardah hugged her arm around his waist and pinched his side, “as long as you aren’t late.” She turned her head up towards him, “Garak doesn’t like to be kept waiting, and I want you to find your mom. Now, I’m invested.”

Julian turned back to her, surprised, “How did you-?”

“Let’s just say, you see broken bones, I see broken hearts. It’s not hard to find, if you know what you’re looking for.” She smiled up to him, and red blossomed across her cheeks, making the whole walk worthwhile.

He cleared his throat, “So- where did you say your house was?”

Mardah patted his side knowingly and pointed up the pathway, “Just another block, Mister Impatience.”

“Oi! That’s Doctor Impatience to you.” He jokingly straightened his jacket with his open hand, and eyed her sternly, “I didn’t go to medical school just to help people you know.”

Mardah regarded him, up and down, and surmised, “You went for titles and such.”

He smiled widely, “Oh yes. Titles and hot nurses.”

“Hot nurses, really?

“Well,” He patted her dark hair, “just the blonde ones.”

She puffed out a white cloud and huddled closer, “Figures.”

Their conversation suspended, the night echoing their synced footfalls, and the soft clicks of each door locking up for the night. Julian blinked, taken aback as snowflake fell in the corner of his eye. He rubbed the spot lightly, then he glanced up at the purple sky, and down to Mardah. Little crystals had already made a home on her bright yellow hat, and he felt a tremor run through her. Julian rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to ward off the bitter chills. She squeezed him back.

He broke the silence, “So you really do think Leeta’s interested in me?”

“Oh shut up, Doctor Impatience!”

The night, unfortunately, echoed that too.


	4. Chapter 4

Julian slowed to a stop, a few paces behind the crowd of screaming people gathered on the sidewalk. His vision blurred behind him, eyes focused entirely on the scene before him. His hand tightened around his kit, the bitter air no longer painful. He stepped forward curiously, the motion stilted and unsure. In the crowd of crying people, a face turned from the mass. She blinked slowly, the only words escaping her lips being, “She needs a doctor.”

And then, every plan he had made, every hope he had foolishly dreamed dashed away as he dashed into the middle of the crowd, without a moment’s pause.

* * *

Julian smacked his cracked lips, unbelievably thirsty, but unwilling to do anything about it. The silence left a strange sort of turmoil in it’s wake, the air’s chaos not quite worn off on Julian’s nerves. He sat beside the woman tiredly, assured of the fact that her niece would be arriving at any moment. She shifted slightly, eyes fluttering occasionally at the clicks and bristles of the machine beside her, and then sniffed at the random bursts of racket down the hall. The lobby was swarmed with pedestrian’s and prayer circles, distant echoes of mumbled pleas and quiet hums traveling down the hospital’s corridors in a comforting sort of way. Julian was floored that so many people seemed to care so deeply for this random woman.

It was almost enough to help him forget he would never see his mother again.

A hand brushed over his on the bedside, and Julian’s eyes darted up to the woman. Her eyes cracked into small slits, and her nose flexed with each sharp intake of breath. He leaned forward, and held her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s alright.” He assured her gently, then smiled. She blinked, eyes darting confusedly around the room. “You’re in the hospital,” shifting forward, he settled his free hand to her shoulder, “your niece is coming soon. Give yourself some time, everything will be clear in a moment.” She mouthed a name he couldn’t quite catch, and tugged at his hand. “Pardon?” Standing up from his chair, he moved closer, tilting his ear toward her. Instead of speaking she tugged at his hand once again, with an insistence that Julian felt was impossible to deny. At the moment, Julian really didn’t think he could deny her anything. She caught his eyes in her own, and all at once he was pulled into her orbit, centered in some kind of gravitational anomaly between the spaces of now and then. Where existence lived outside the present and substance was only temporary. He was afraid to get any closer.

She clasped his ear.

His breath audibly hitched, the icy fingers of the water wrapping around his ankles. Julian dug his toes into the sand, urgently struggling to gain his footing. The ocean crashed at his feet, its current displacing the layer of wet sand underneath his ball and heel, then recoiled back into its blue depths, willfully pulling Julian with it. The wind pushed him along with the waves, tangling his hair in too many directions, and insistently palming against his back, holding him upright, whispering in sharp swells one more step. One more step. One more step. One more step. With the crashing tides and the wind’s high pitched whine, Julian couldn’t even hear the words tumble from his lips, “Please let go.”

The monitor beeped.

He pulled his hand briskly out of her own, and backed away. Hands clenching into fists, he resisted the urge to touch his burning ear.

She swallowed, cheeks flushed. Hand shakily moving up to rest on her chest, she shook her head, whether at herself or Julian, he couldn’t tell. “I apologize.” She said to him in the silence, voice scratching against the grain. Attempting a small smile she carried on, “I usually ask first.”

“It’s quite alright.” He stuttered, even though it wasn’t, wasn’t alright at all. Her blue duvet wrinkled as she clenched it, rippling in a dizzy fashion. Julian looked away quickly and covered his mouth, his body not quite settled. The bitter tang of saltwater still coated the corners of his lips, the liquid wallpaper of being time still not quite present beside him. It felt as though the space he once occupied was gauging his reaction, to see if he existed. As if he were intruding, of all the ridiculous things. As if he didn’t quite match, and that was always it, wasn’t it? Living life adjacent to himself, his words and thoughts never quite in accord. The prophets invasive curiosity, although a logically sound inquisition, didn’t do anything to quail Julian’s burning indignation. This time, this space, this field of electricity was his, and damn whatever the fuck thought he needed to prove it.

“It’s always much easier to leave than come back,” She said knowingly. “Everything will be clear in a moment.” A moment later, when nothing was clear. She stretched out her hand, like she actually thought he would take it. “Tell me.” She commanded softly, beckoning him toward her with a flick of her hand.

“God, are you mad? Absolutely not, and don’t try to hypnotize me with your eyes, because trust me, I will not fall for that again.” Although his tone touched a tad aggressive, her lips pulled into a serene smile, and she relaxed into her pillows, eyes disconcertingly sincere. Julian looked away.

“Honesty suits you,” she complimented from her concave mound of pillows, “almost like coming home, is it not?”

“Home?” Julian repeated thoughtlessly, torn between backing away or moving closer.

She nodded in affirmation, “For some reason, most think lying can provide some kind of freedom, the ability to move about more easily. But you know better, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure if I know better.” He replied shortly, crossing his arms, thinking she had a lot in common with those prodding prophets.

“Perhaps not.” She agreed easily, folding her hands over her chest.

He waited for her to say, “-but you will,” but it never came, just a baited silence that nudged Julian in the direction of the exiting door. She looked contented, if recently waking up from a severe cardiac arrest could bring any kind of content.

He really should’ve called a nurse in by now.

“I really need to go,” he began, an almost lie. As the words left his lips, he was sure that she would notice.

Instead she nodded, taking his excuse in with good humor. No doubt, probably already envisioning her niece jogging down the hallway in worried fervor, the psychic old bat. “If you must.”

“Thank you-” he began, then shook his head blinking, irrevocably flustered, “Um, feel better.” No, that wasn’t good at all. A doctor should have better bedside manner, but apparently, when taken out of his plane of existence, Julian’s calm and considerate approach to medicine diminished completely.

He left.

Turning down the hallway Julian weaved around a shorter girl jogging up the corridor, hair swinging back and forth in a hastily made ponytail. “Excuse me.” He murmured, inwardly mapping his way back to the exit and the late afternoon. Keeping his head down, he tried to bypass the nursing station.

“Wait!” A voice echoed from behind him, and he kept walking, stuffing his hands into his pockets, fingering the tiny holes inside. “Wait a moment!” Someone jogged up to him, clasping their hand over his shoulder, and spinning him to a stop quite effectively. “It is you!” She said a bit too enthusiastic, “You’re the one who saved Kai Opaka!” She grinned, her wrinkles pulling into a smile both glittery and thankful.

He reluctantly smiled back. “I didn’t know-” he paused, “did you just say I saved the _Kai_?”

She looked taken aback, “You didn’t recognize her?”

“Didn’t I?” Julian asked himself aloud, suddenly unsure of what he did and did not recognize. When taken to the space between now and then, Julian hadn’t realized that in a moment did not mean then, but now, and clarity seized him by the shoulder and washed over his perplexed fritters and jittery hands. “I had no idea.” Julian covered his face, appalled by his own cluelessness. “The Kai?” He said again, a bit ridiculously. She nodded, and the fear that dug at the pit of his stomach fluttered up his throat into tiny titters, “I saved the Kai. Oh, I can’t believe it- that’s amazing!”

She shook her head with a smile, “I know it is! That’s what I was saying!”

“God sorry,” he apologized quickly, not sure if it was a federal offense not to recognize the Kai on demand, “I’m not from here.”

“Obviously,” she agreed, eyes darting over to his bare ear.

He flushed, “I’m Julian.”

“Cere,” she replied, “Cere Ida, I’m the administrator here.” Shifting self-consciously, she crossed her arms, “Honestly I just came over here to thank you, not to test you on Provisional Government Religious figures.”

Julian ran a hand about his hair, a bit recklessly joked, “Oh thank god, I was doing terrible so far.”

Cere waved a hand dismissively, “It’s fine. I’m sure being a Doctor keeps you too busy to stay in touch with the news and such. You are a doctor, right? That’s what everyone was saying…” She trailed off.

“I am, but I’m not that busy.”

“No?”

He gave an embarrassed shrug, “I’m still looking, around that is. Not many hospitals on Bajor are too keen on Federation Doctors.”

Cere eyed him critically, “Our emergency responders are terribly short staffed at the moment. I mean, I might not be up to your level of expertise, but…” She trailed off, and bit her lip.

“I’m sorry, are you offering me a job?”

She sheepishly looked up at him from under her eyelashes, and leaned one hand up against the nursing registrar, “If you’re interested, yeah, I am.”

The world shifted around him, propelling forward like an elastic band, a large vibrative snap into it’s rightful place, “Yes.” Julian said at last, taking her free hand and shaking it, “Thank you, yes, that’s brilliant! Of course I’m interested!”

Cere lips pulled into a bewildered smile, and after a few moments of vigorous shaking, she carefully extracted her hands from his. “Good. Why don’t you meet me back here tomorrow. Say nine? I’ll get you set up then.”

“Yes, right, of course. Nine it is. Thank you, really, I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

She squeezed his bicep lightly, “You saved the Kai. Consider this, my thank you.”


	5. Chapter 5

The sun hovered just above the horizon, a small comfort against the slowly cooling evening. The previous workweek took it’s toll on the Bajoran capital, the downtown settling in a cool silence only broken by the rag-tag groups of wanderlust students, or the occasional unskilled servicer trekking home after a long day serving said students. Julian pathetically accepted their distant companionship as a relief to his ever present loneliness.

A loneliness that would most likely be present for a very long time.

Julian guiltily pushed down the intruding thoughts that wished; _Any day, any day but today. Why did she have to collapse today_? It was difficult not to think them, especially when he knew so little about Mr.Garak. For some reason, Julian didn’t think a little pink slip reading _Excused- Busy saving the Kai’s life_ was reason enough to skip a meeting with the all important Answer-Man.

“Julian!” He looked up from the ground and surveyed the area, the sidewalk across the street deserted in the evening, and noone of significance behind him. “Over here!” Swiveling around again, he scanned down the block, and spotted Leeta jogging toward him with little effort.

Oh thank god. “Leeta!” He called out in recognition, jogging to meet her. “You have know idea how relieved I am to see you,” he said once she was within a sensible distance.

She slowed to a stop and crossed her arms, “I could say the same for you. What happened today, why didn’t you show up? Mardah and I were worried something had happened.”

“I’m sorry,” The cafe down the road caught his eye, and he turned down to Leeta, “Did you wait for me?”

Leeta eyed him, unembarrassed, and admitted, “For some reason I thought you might come down this way. For a mysterious stranger, you sure are predictable.” She nudged Julian toward his original direction, and murmured a soft demand of, “Walk me home.”

“I never really thought of myself as predictable.” Julian abstained, walking a little slower, Leeta seeming to be in no rush.

She only shrugged, and looked up at him with a small smile, as if regarding their presence together to be evidence enough. “I ought to message Mardah when I get home,” she said aloud, maybe more to herself than Julian, “-tell her you’re okay. She worries a lot, thought you were in the hospital or something.”

Warmth flooded up through his chest. Mardah? Worried about him? It was validating, as if his newly found friendships weren’t entirely one-sided, which usually seemed to be the case whenever Julian was concerned. His eyes darted toward Leeta, whose gait was easily composed, “Not you?”

Leeta laughed, “I worried a little,” she conceded, “but mostly I thought you were just out to waste our time. You wouldn’t be the first.” The last admittance was uttered quietly, as if she didn’t enjoy allowing the thought to voice itself. Julian tried not to look offended.

“The first time?” Julian prodded gently.

She rolled her eyes, and then viewed Julian contemplatively, “Why don’t you tell me what happened instead?”

And so Julian recounted his morning, skipping over irrelevant details such as crashing waves and whispering winds, focusing on the more important features, such as the fact that he might be a hero after all. She patted his back fondly, and as he turned in for the night, although nothing had went as planned, he could help but smile. 

* * *

 Late into the afternoon the next day, packaged uniform in one hand, and messenger bag in the other, Julian leaned over Mardah’s desk. Watching the words appear on the monitor as she typed with one hand, mug of tea in the other, he revealed, “I think Leeta was tempted to let me stay for the evening last night.” Then, secretively lowing his tone, he insisted, “She was very interested in what I had to say.”

Mardah snorted into her cup, flecks of dark tea splashing onto her face. Pausing in her entry, she wiped her cheek with the edge of her sleeve, “Was she now?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” The door chimed distantly, and Julian scooted forward, attempting to gauge a reaction out of Mardah, “I’m fascinating.”

“Don’t you mean that you’re fascinated?”

“Fascinated?”

“With the sound of your own voice.” Mardah clarified, with a smile in her tone.

Julian slumped on her desk, “You talked to her, didn’t you?” She waggled her eyebrows, and he groaned, “Perhaps I should’ve toned it down just a bit.”

“What was it you said?” Mardah pretended to think, as if she didn’t have all of his most embarrassing words memorized, “That you were given a gift? A gift to be a healer?”

“It sounded much better in my head,” he defended.

“Well I should hope so.” Mardah set down her cup of tea and reached underneath the desk’s open compartment, “I think I wrote some others down,” she murmured aloud to herself, pulling out a small notebook with a grin. Swiveling in her chair, she flicked through its pages, “Now where did I put it?”

Julian watched, horrified, as she paused to a particular entry, and she read aloud, “What is that intoxicating scent you’re wearing-”

He sprung further over the desk, making a grab for her diary, “That’s enough of that!” She stood and held the book away from his grasp, laughing at his indignation, and shouting for him to stop in girlish glee. Julian began to paw at her arm, and then her shoulder, crawling by means of playful grappling in order to reclaim any last shred of dignity he had left. Well, he would reclaim it, after he burned that damned diary of hers.

“What do you two think that you are doing?” A sharp voice interrupted, with a brisk certainty that only voiced itself in those who were decidedly _in charge_.

They paused, Mardah stiffening immediately, and Julian looking very haphazard, distantly aware that he could fall at any moment. His legs were positioned over the desk, the other half of his body being held up quite nicely by Mardah’s short upper torso. She shifted toward the voice, an apology on the tip of her tongue, and he tumbled over the desk to the floor, a cup of pens and several notepads crumbling beneath him. “For fucks sake, Julian!” Mardah scolded under her breath, which was entirely unfair. Eyes distinctively not looking down, Mardah apologized, “I’m really sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry, be professional.” The voice chastised, which was a little harsh. “I expect better from you.” _Ouch_ , Julian thought sympathetically, rubbing the growing bruise at the top of his forehead.

“It won’t happen again.” She insisted from above, a reverence to her voice that sounded foreign to his ears. Even as she towered over him, Mardah looked almost small, shrinking into herself- fully chastised. It was strange. For some reason, Julian considered Mardah above all that power play and what not.

She seemed too...dignified.

A part of him wanted to rally against the person on the other side of the desk, but the boyish part of him, the side that fell in love all too easily, wanted to bask in this unfamiliarity. Wanted to watch as her features morphed into to something stranger, more authentic, more...captivating.

He felt her foot nudge against his shoulder, and he stood up with a jolt. “Yes, what she said--” Julian tilted his head curiously, straightening his jacket instinctively, “Mr. Garak!” For all that he made another bad first impression, for the third time that week, relief relaxed the tightly strung nerves that bothered him all that morning.

Mr. Garak seemed much less enthused, his reprimanding features softening into extreme incredulity. His gaze transferred to Julian’s as if he were deciding whether it would be easier to ask him to leave, or just kill him on the spot. Then, his eye twitched, a familiar gesture, almost as if he were in pain. “Mardah, I believe I told you he wasn’t welcome here.”

“Yes, you did.” She agreed, unhelpfully, twisting her fingers, and looking down at her shoes.

“I put a great deal of trust in you every day, so I can only assume that he has a very good reason for being here.”

“Now wait a moment,” Julian interrupted, instinctively moving forward, blocking Mardah from Mr. Garak’s view, “I understand Mardah has a job here, but honestly I just came here to see her, no funny business, I promise.”

Mr. Garak blinked, bemused, “I am displeased not by your intent, but your presence. I believe that this is between Miss Mardah and I. I’m sure that you can see yourself out.”

“Mr. Garak-”

“I prefer just Garak, actually.” He paused, and shook his head in dismay, “You have no idea who I am, do you?” Walking up to the desk, he pressed one hand against its edge and leaned forward, “I suggest you be very careful when braving the unknown, Doctor. Your righteousness won’t guarantee survival.”

A thrill ran down Julian’s back, an arousal of dangerous ground ahead. Before he could think better of it, he replied, “I am a Doctor after all. My natural instinct is to protect the survival of others, not my own.”

Garak scoffed, and raising his voice advanced, “That’s your first mistake. Adaptation is the best healer, and what is survival, but adaptation?”

“But for species of our intellect, what is adaptation but morphing our lives as a reaction to the choices made by our betters?” Julian countered easily, “Not a life I’d prefer-”

“-but a life you’re living nonetheless. Unless you live on Bajor by your own leave?” Julian grimaced, and glanced away for the first time, “I thought not.” Garak smiled, all self-congratulatory, which, was fascinating and very frustrating to watch. Very, very frustrating... some of the frustration lying in areas that Julian would rather not explore. “Life is not what you prefer, but what it is and isn’t. We use what is to predict what it will be. For example, right now, you are trespassing, and I will make your life very difficult for it.”

“And how--may I ask--will you-”

“Go, Julian.” Mardah commanded softly from his side. He startled, his attention previously disregarding the fact that she was both present and beside him. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he tried to keep his eyes from Garak, who also had an embarrassed look about him. With a sigh, he bent forward and retrieved his bag and uniform from the clutter on the floor, then shuffled around Mardah and the desk.

“I’m leaving because she asked,” Julian asserted to Garak, tilting his head toward Mardah, “but you and I? We will meet again, and you will help me.” Julian pressed forward until he could feel the heat radiate off the other man and Garak stood up straighter, puffing his chest. Lowering his voice to a whisper, Julian continued, “You will help me, not because I prefer it, but because you will need me.”

Garak’s hand clenched the desk, and Julian felt a heat run up his neck, a rapture to Garak’s stare reminding Julian of his ability to run away, and of his ability to--better not think of that. “Why do you think I’ll need you?”

Julian flushed, then cleared his throat, and in a lowered voice asked, “Don’t those constant headaches bother you? Just because they’re bearable right now, doesn’t mean they’ll always be.” Garak tensed, and Julian assured, “I’m very good at what I do, Garak, and I also know that you don’t have many options available when it comes to healthcare here. I don’t want you to worry, I’m going to be very available to you, I promise.”

Garak’s eyes flicked downward, and he forcefully backed away, “You plan on harassing me more?”

“Harrass you?” Julian smiled playfully, “Oh, no. This will be _much_ worse.”

Crossing his arms, Garak demanded, “Get out.”

Julian shrugged and avoided Mardah’s gaze as he walked around Garak to the exit. Brazenly he called out, “You’ll be seeing me!”

“You won’t see me!” Garak called back as the door jingled. It wasn’t until Julian got home that he registered the statement as a threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Life as a reaction, etc etc line was obviously taken from Robinson's A Stitch in Time. My favorite line, so it made a cameo! I think there are other lines taken from the actual series, but honestly most of the time they happen without me noticing- So! if it sounds like you've heard it before, It's definitely stolen. If there are specific lines people want to find, I can do that homework! But I'll just leave it at this for now! Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

Julian ignored his better judgment, suppressed every instinct of self-preservation, and made himself as available to Garak as possible. After work, on his dwindling days off, he used every moment to assure Garak of his complete and utter devotion to his declining health.

“Did anyone ever tell you,” Garak asked one afternoon, shuffling quickly down a park square’s steps, briskly walking through a pack of unsuspecting birds, “that you are an infuriating pest?”

Julian stumbled as he weaved round a pair of flapping wings, thinking rudely that Bajor’s territorial nature wasn’t limited to its higher cognitive species. “You did,” Julian answered, going to walk on Garak’s other side, “just yesterday, remember?”

Garak glanced back at him, and quickened his pace, turning toward a long pathway covered in brittle leaves and aging trees. “Oh yes, I do recall. I believe I was just sitting down to breakfast-”

“An early lunch, actually.” Julian corrected, watching as Garak pulled out his mini notebook calendar. “Are you making me an appointment?” He asked, head intrusively looking over Garak’s shoulder.

“No,” Garak answered, ripping a page out with force and crumbling it. Veering off to the side of the walkway he tossed the paper into a nearby refuse cylinder. “I’m starting my daily schedule over again. I see that I’ve become much too predictable.” Snapping the book shut, he replaced it back to his coat’s inner pocket.

Julian huffed out a breath of cold air, “C’mon Garak, you and I both know you’re not changing anything.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Because that would mean that I’d win.” He argued, carefully recalling Mardah’s strict warning not to, under any circumstances, argue, “You, changing your life around to accommodate my continued presence, or rather, to prevent it?” He snorted, “Not your style, Garak.”

“That is where you are mistaken, my dear Doctor. The truth lies in the fact that no one likes to lose, even though it is the easiest path to take. To win is always a challenge.”

“And you love a challenge!”

“Only when it suits my purposes,” he corrected, “or when winning is worth the challenge.” Garak sniffed accordingly, “You, I’m afraid, are not worth the effort.”

“If I’m not worth the effort, why are you still arguing with me?”

“Because you won’t stop talking!” Garak shook his head in exasperation, “Is that why you’re here? Because you talked someone to death? Exiled on the charge of murder by madness?”

Julian paused in his step, affronted, almost. Unexpectedly hardened. “That’s not funny.”

“Believe me when I say that was not a joke at your expense, but a serious question as to calculate my chances of survival.”

Julian huffed, and his eyes narrowed, “Keep going and you won’t have to calculate any longer.”

“How utterly quaint, you’re threatening me,” Garak smiled widely, eyes lidded dangerously low, “Oh please, do go on. No one ever threatens me anymore. It makes me think I’ve lost my touch.” He swooped down and retrieved a small bottle cap from the ground, examining it carefully, “Though, I do suppose it’s my own fault.” Garak lamented slowly, squinting at the tiny words inside the cap. Then, with a disappointed sigh, he pocketed it, “Everyone that used to regularly threaten me is dead. Oh, how time flies by.”

“Time does fly, knives too, I bet.”

“Are you implying I killed them? I have no clue as to where you would get that idea.” Julian raised an eyebrow, well versed in their little debates to know what was coming next, “Oh no, they all died from old age, I’m afraid. When I was young much like yourself, I can’t say I didn’t undo a garden or two in my day. The older residents were none too happy with me, let me tell you.”

Julian smarted a pained expression, words unable to properly convey the amount of nonsense that just came from Garak’s lips. “The dirt under your nails suggest otherwise. You mean to tell me those new plants by reception is Leeta’s doing? She does fantastic work-”

“She doesn’t-” Garak pressed his hands into his coat’s pockets, shoulders rising in indignation. “It’s Mardah’s work.” He lied, with excruciating admittance. Then a pause, “You think it’s fantastic?”

“Oh-- I can’t really say.” Julian waved his hand vaguely, “I mean I have to be careful, what I say around you. You know, with you being a sleeper agent, or outcast, or spy-”

“Or both.”

“How could you be both?”

“Who said I was either?” Julian groaned, and Garak continued, with an amused demeanor, “Honestly, my dear Doctor, you mustn’t believe everything you hear. Those are only rumors,” Garak smiled at him discreetly, “although I can’t say I didn’t start one or two of them.”

Julian rolled his eyes, always finding himself caught within Garak’s web at the very last moment, “You are incorrigible.”

“And you are insatiable. Truly, I find myself seeing you in my own shadows by this point. Can’t I at least have a timeline for the point when you will give up?” The pathway ended as they came back to the industrial complex in the city square. Garak hailed for a metro-transport.

“How about,” Julian pretended to think, “when you find my mum!”

“As usual, your Standard vernacular alludes me.”

“How clear is this?--I want you, Garak, to find my mother.”

The vehicle stopped by the roadside. Garak opened the door and paused, his hand resting on the frame. He remarked, “And I want to find my peace of mind. It seems neither of us are getting what we want today.” With that, he sat in the car and slammed the door behind him.

The transport took off in a screech, and Julian blew out a defeated breath. Then, pulling out his little notebook he flipped through the pages. Stopping at his most recent entry, Julian ripped it out forcefully, and crumpled it. “Damn it, Garak.” If Garak could just listen to him, Julian was sure that he couldn’t say no. Julian checked the time, his shift starting within the hour.

“Excuse me, Doctor Bashir?”

He perked up and glanced about, catching the eye of a girl who had a familiar face about her. An appearance crafted in a similar way to those who went to the same primary school, but immediately lost touch, only to be reaquainted ten years later. He tentatively stepped toward her, always cautious around those who seemed to know him, when he didn’t have the slightest clue as to who they were. “I’m sorry, you seem to know me but…” It clicked. “You’re the--what? How are you here--I don’t.” She gave him a bizarre look, which, yes, was completely warranted. “Sorry- I meant, how are you? Nice to see you I suppose? How do you know my name?”

She only sighed and stepped toward him, hand held out in greeting, “You do remember me don’t you? I’m the--”

“Yes the girl from the booth with the transmitter services. Yes, I recall. I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

She nodded, “I can see that. Was that Mr. Garak you were talking to? You found him then?”

Julian began to nod, then thought better of it, “No, I was just...walking, by myself.”

“You didn’t look like you were by yourself.”

“You’re mistaken,” He said forcefully. “Because I was. Alone, that is.”

“Don’t lie. I know you were with Mr. Garak,” _which he didn’t like to be called_ , “and I want you to know that I’m glad.” She shuffled around and moved closer to him, lowering her voice, “I must admit, sending you Mr. Garak’s way wasn’t an altogether altruistic matter. I need your help.”

Julian affronted. “Oh my god, have you been following me? What am I?” He asked allowed in misery, “Some kind of creep magnet?”

Transmission Girl rolled her eyes, “It’s rude to say that to a lady.”

“Is it rude to say that to a stalker?”

“I’m not stalking you.” She replied despairingly, “I prefer the term: surveillance, as in, I keep my distance from the target. Unlike you, who seems to take invasive procedures to a whole new level.”

Julian took offense to that. Following someone around for a week was hardly stalking...sort of. Anyone else, _perhaps_ , but Garak didn't count, not really. He was--well--Julian got the feeling that if Garak truly abhorred his presence, he would be gone by now. _Permanently_ gone, seemed to be the favored option. But, he wasn’t. “I can talk to who I like. If Garak wishes to report my behavior he has the means to do so.”

“You don’t think he will?”

“What I think is that this conversation is over, and if you continue to follow Garak or I, I’ll be the one talking to the authorities.”

“You mean this authority?” She asked pulling out her identification badge and showcasing it.  
“I’m well within my official capacity to survey Mr. Garak,” she assured, “and recently you’ve become a central part in his daily routine. Where Mr. Garak goes, you follow, and so do I.”

With a considering look, Julian stepped forward cautiously. “You’re a Provisional Government Clandestine Operative?” Julian read aloud, surprised. “I didn’t think Bajor had the resources for reliable transport services, let alone a spy organization? Miss--?” He prodded further, the identification badge leaving him a little unbalanced.

“Ranya Reliru, Agent Ranya will do fine-- and let’s just say, our payroll isn’t on the official provisional sanctioned ledger.” Quickly flipping the wallet closed, she pocketed it once again.

Julian took a step back, “So what? Is that code for unsanctioned privacy violations?”

“It means that I do what needs to be done, by any means necessary.”

“In other words, you’re accountable to you and nobody else?” He ascertained, the autumn’s chill quickly working its way through his bones, “I can’t believe I’m hearing this! You leave Garak and I alone this instant, because all I am hearing at this moment, is that you are invading our privacy on the behalf of a people who don’t even know you _exist_. Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

“Doctor Bashir-”

“Don’t ever approach me again.”

“We’re not after Mr. Garak, we are interested in someone much, much worse.”

“I don’t particularly care.”

“Enabran Tain? The Obsidian Order?”

Julian stopped short, “That was disbanded decades ago.”

“Or was it?” She countered, “Tain has killed thousands of people, and tortured double. This isn’t about revenge, or claiming dues, this is about stopping the terrorism that’s happening still, today. You are a doctor, and I know that you won’t let someone suffer. Instead of one, think of thousands, Julian. Thousands of people, Federation, Bajoran, Cardassian. I’m not here to right wrongs, I’m here to stop them, and like it or not, I need your help to do it.”

Julian bit his lip and clenched his fists, realizing that this woman knew exactly what to say. That alone should send him running. Except he wasn’t, and Julian didn’t quite know what to make of that. He didn’t know what to make of her harsh breaths and the confessions on her lips, of Garak’s continued dismissals, of his mother’s continued vacancy. “Instead of going to me, go to actual Bajoran officials. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I promise you, I don’t plan on being a pawn in whatever tale you’re spinning.”

“You aren’t a pawn, you are a partner,” she insisted, stepping toward him.

“A partner? Really?” Julian asked incredulously, fairly certain that no, he was not an equal partner in her little investigation. Julian had been taken advantage of, at his most vulnerable. Torn between the loss of a home and a loss of every part of himself he held dear, Agent Rayna chose to exploit him, chose to capitalize on his helpless determination in order for her to indirectly get close to Garak. At least when Garak lied, he did it to Julian’s face. “If we’re partners, answer me this: How many people do you have spying on Garak? I imagine that plenty of people come into contact with him every single day, probably because you send them there, like you did me.”

“I’m just asking you.”

“Why?”

“He likes you.”

Julian barked a sharp laugh, “He thinks I’m a pest.”

“Every other person that’s invaded his privacy to this degree has disappeared. Except you, that is. Julian, you have to understand, Mr. Garak is not a man you want to cross, not a man you want to be close to, and not a man you can trust. What I’m asking you to do is dangerous, but I need to know if Mr. Garak and Tain are still in contact. I need to know what Tain’s planning on doing.”

“Doing to what?”

“Exactly.”

Julian sighed, “You know that Garak hums Bajoran hymnals on his way to the HMC right? What are you saying? That the rumors are true? That he’s some kind of Cardassian spy?”

“If he’s not right now, he used to be. All I’m asking is to do the same as you are, and if he tells you something, do the quadrant a favor and tell me too.” She stomped her foot in frustration, “Dammit Doctor, why are you trying to protect him?” With a pause, she took a step back, some sort of astonishment crossing her features, “Don’t tell me-- you don’t actually _trust_ him do you?” She asked, condescension dripping from her tone.

The breeze picked up as Julian scoffed, “Of course not.” But his eyes shifted, just enough for her to see...

“Oh for the love of-- The man is chaos, a walking lie! What are you thinking?”

He crossed his arms and defended, “I know he lies, but it’s more of a game to him, really. He doesn’t do it to hurt people, just to mess with them a bit. Garak’s not diabolical, he’s bored.” Then after a moment, “and lonely.”

“Prophets, you are a piece of work. If Mr. Garak is bored, it’s because all of his other playthings are either dead or have left, and it seems you have just become his new toy.”

Julian swallowed, but stole himself to think rationally, and ignore her, “You don’t know him, and you definitely don’t know me.”

“Maybe I don’t. But you don’t know Mr.Garak either. Word to the wise,” she reached into her breast pocket and held a card out to him, “He likes you, not because you are good or smart or trustworthy. He likes you because you’re gullible.” He took the card, and read the transmission code. “When you regain your senses, give me a call.”

Eyeing the card, he said harshly, “Maybe it’s because of my recent distrust in government bodies, but you can find yourself another mole. I’ve got places to be.” He flicked up his collar, and gave one last look back, “Don’t follow me?” Once out of her sight, he slipped the card into his pocket, telling himself that he was to throw it away as soon as possible.

He didn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

The encounter left him a bit frazzled. His misadventures in stalking the previous few weeks led him down dark paths, literally. Garak seemed to enjoy taking Julian down the unlit alleyways of the old occupation storehouses-- the only remaining evidence to the horrors done, besides the memories that resided only within the oldest residents of Bajor. Now, however, stalking Garak seemed furthest from his mind as he rechecked over his shoulder at the sound of footfalls behind him. There was no one.

Perhaps Ranya wasn’t lying, when she said that she was stalking Garak, and Julian only by proxy, but he couldn’t be sure. His instincts only spoke of her sincerity, but what was instinct in the light of evidence and rationality? _Wrong,_ for starters. Especially since his instincts also favored Garak as someone trustworthy, someone reliable. Someone he could put faith into.

Apparently his instincts were wrong about a lot of things. Even so, Ranya unintentionally reminded him that in all likelihood, if he wanted to find answers, he would have to find them on his own. Everyone had their own motives, their own necessities and actions. Julian wouldn’t get caught in the crossfires, not again. Never again.

Paranoid, he checked over his shoulder again, and then jogged the last bit to the coffee shop entrance, slipping inside with ease. His cheeks and ears burned from the heat, as he bumped into several other patrons, waiting patiently in the crowded line. Checking his watch, he decided to wait, and pray for an open table by the time he finished the queue.

As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, oddly, he heard his name called. Tuning out the coffeehouse chatter, he listened again, then turned toward its source. Sitting at a corner table, beside a large window on the opposite side of the entrance, Garak waved at him.

“Doctor Bashir!” He called out again, even though they were both already certain Julian had heard him. Julian waved back cautiously, and Garak signalled him to join him. Julian shook his head and pointed to the line, saying, _No really, I’ll just order my coffee to go, thanks_. Garak offered him a look that could only mean one didn’t deny Garak, ever, and if Julian didn’t give up his spot in line within the next few seconds….

Julian knew that, no matter his resolve, a quick chat couldn’t hurt anyone. Especially when refusing to chat, could hurt someone, namely him. That someone was him. He sighed, and relented. Giving the person behind him an exasperated look, he weaved around the crowded room and took his seat opposite of Garak.

Garak smiled, as if Julian came and sat down on his own accord, rather than lethal threats made by Garak’s expressive eye ridges. “Doctor Bashir,” he greeted smoothly, “what a pleasant surprise.”

A waitress stopped by their table placed a mug in front of Julian, with a servicing smile. After she left, he regarded the cup, and then Garak. “Is that mine?” He asked, incredulous. Garak nodded. “How did she--?”

“I ordered it.” Garak ceded, “I thought I might find you here.”

“Not much of a surprise then, is it?” He tried to tease, the joke falling as flat as he felt. Irrationally, he wondered if Garak knew about he and Ranya’s little chat last week. His heart began to race.

If Garak noticed a change, he didn’t show it. He only sipped his tea with a small, considering smile. “You come here often.” He extrapolated, turning off the screen to the padd he was reading, and regarded Julian’s strange look,“What? You didn’t think your little trespasses were one sided, did you?” Smiling at Julian’s dumbstruck expression, mouth gaped open in surprise, he continued “I told you, you wouldn’t see me.”

Julian laughed, forcing himself to calm the fuck down. “Perhaps you haven’t lost your touch after all?” He replied, trying not to feel flattered that Garak went through all the trouble to reciprocate Julian’s persistent stalking. Garak shrugged, and Julian reached forward for his coffee, taking a drink. “I really needed this,” he thanked aloud, setting the drink back down.

“You’ve had a long day?”

“More like a long week, which you probably already know.” Julian scooted his chair in further as a couple tried to squeeze behind him, “Cere wasn’t kidding when she said Emergency Services was understaffed.”

Garak eyed Julian’s uniform from across the table, “Wearing something more in style might spike an interest?”

Julian could tell what he was doing, being coy, teasing, a sense of normalcy in his tone. If Garak saw the stress and paranoia lining Julian’s shoulders he didn’t mention it, only tried to bring him back from the clouds of hysteria and loneliness that filled the cracks of his still open wounds.

“In style?” Julian looked down at his one-piece zip up, “You don’t like it? I thought it made me look rather dashing. I mean, perhaps the color--”

“The color is the only part of that uniform worth salvaging,” Garak surveyed wickedly, stirring his tea, “My advice? Next time you stop blood from a stab wound, try wearing an accent scarf.”

Julian laughed humorlessly, “You saw that?”

Garak grimaced and nodded, “I’m afraid to say it wasn’t the worst I’ve seen, but yes.” Giving him a once over he continued, “I’m pleasantly surprised to see your uniform blood free today.”

Julian pulled at the fabric ribbed over his chest, straightening it, “It’s less laundered, and more new, actually.”

Garak sipped his tea and regarded the garment in distaste, “Still dreadful.”

“I’m sorry, Garak,” he said, completely unapologetic, “but there’s nothing I can do.” Then in a artificial tone, Julian peevishly continued, “There are many who think you have to sacrifice fashion for functionality.”

“Why can’t your uniform be both?”

Julian leaned forward with his elbows on the table a wicked grin spreading across his lips, “Who said it was either?”

Garak paused in his response, and then leaned back in his booth, looking almost proud, “There may be hope for you yet, Doctor.”

Julian preened underneath his gaze, but only for a moment, Garak’s friendly demeanor most certainly proving Ranya’s easy implications. _He likes you._ Coughing deliberately, Julian self-consciously scratched the back of his neck. “Yes, well,-” The coffee shop's crowd expanded, effectively suffocating him from his seat, the laughter louder than it had a right to be, the lights too reflective against the tables’ shiny surfaces. “Getting a bit crowded in here isn’t it?” Julian remarked, scooting his chair in so that his stomach pressed against the table’s edge.

Garak sat across from him, pointedly stirring his tea as if nothing was amiss, “We can take this conversation elsewhere, if you’d like?” Perhaps the friendliness wasn’t entirely onesideded, Julian thought, considering the invitation.

“By elsewhere you do mean somewhere else, right? You’re not going to take me out,” he sharply flicked his hand toward himself, “ because I’ve been stalking you these past couple weeks?”

Garak eyed Julian’s abaded hand wave, not quite well versed in Julian’s subjective hand language for murder, “You didn’t--” he paused, considering his next words, “Real stalking is hardly so clumsy.”

Julian crossed his arms, affronted at Garak’s blatant dismissal, “And you would know, would you?”

Garak only rolled his eyes, and shook his head up toward the ceiling, “You’re constant vigilance toward implicating myself is both irritating and very tiresome.”

“Irritating and tiresome, am I? Does it make you feel better to know that I’ve heard it all before?”

“More disappointed, actually,” Garak corrected, then clarified, “ in my lack of creativity. I’ll be better next time.”

“I look forward to it. I do enjoy the execution of a well-crafted insult.”

“Who said I would be insulting you? You’re abrasiveness, I find it--”

“Taxing?”

“Charming.”

Julian stopped short. “I didn’t realize,” he began, then reevaluated, “is that why you haven’t had me eradicated from the city yet? I mean, I wouldn’t call us friends, but we do--”

“My dear Doctor,” Garak held up a hand in reproach, “your charms are not without faults. Let’s call this an act of self-preservation.”

 _Wait-- what?_ “Call what…” He began to ask, letting the thought trail off.

Garak tilted his head to the side, his lips crinkling into a small smile, “You and I here, it is less of a coincidence, and more of a meeting, shall we say? One long overdue?”

 _Was he saying that..._ “You mean you--”

“My dear Doctor,” Garak stopped him. Pulling Julian’s hand from his mug, Garak tugged for his attention. Meeting his gaze, Julian’s breath caught, “all you have to do is ask.”

“Will you help me?” He asked slowly, eyes wide and voice tentative.

Garak held his hand, unmoving, and then shook his head, as if Julian were a child, asking for the most obvious answers. He leaned forward, gaze unexpectedly soft, “I already have.”


	8. Chapter 8

Julian regarded Mardah’s dulled expression with a sullen finality, “You don’t like it.”

“I think we were closer two outfits earlier,” she clarified gently, crossing her arms from her perch on his bed.

He pulled off his shirt moodily, left only in his long-sleeved black undershirt and trousers, calling out, “It’s not like I have much to choose from!” Kicking off his shoes, he slumped to the floor, perhaps finally accepting his fate. “I have nothing to wear.” He declared outrageously, “I’m going to see my mum for the first time in three months, and I have nothing to wear! Brilliant.”

Mardah rolled her eyes at his melodramatic display. Uncrossing her arms, she leaned forward and selected a shirt from the pile on the bed, “I think the purple is nice…”

“Oh shut up, you hate it.”

She sighed, truly unable to hide her distaste, “Fine, okay. Federation style is terrible, but, I mean, she’s your mother. I doubt she cares what you look like.” She laughed abruptly, “Hey that’s a funny thought. Do you two look the same? I mean, I guess all you Terrans look alike, but you know what I mean?”

Julian snorted from his pathetic seat on the floor, “Sort of, I guess. She’s much shorter than me? I’m not sure, everyone usually says I look like my dad.”

She hummed noncommittally, and pulled up a black sweater he tried on earlier, “What about this? It’s still pretty cold out, and this looks warm, at the very least.” She tossed it to him, which he caught, only by an inch. He fingered the fabric, and made no move to try it on. “Honestly, Julian, what is it?”

He straightened his shoulders and huffed, pulling the sweater closer up his chest, “What’s what?”

“First you don’t know when you’re meeting Garak, then you don’t know where, now you have nothing to wear--Really, have any more disasters hidden in that closet of yours?” _Other than myself?_

There was a short silence, where, in all seriousness, Julian didn’t know what to say, didn’t really even know where to begin. It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited at the prospect of his seeing Mum again, of being in the presence of someone that knew him, all of him. It was just-- He was very sure it would be strange, it being just Mum and him.

When Julian decided that medicine wasn’t truly what he was intended for, that he would much rather dedicate his life to tennis, Richard Bashir made his displeasure known. Loudly. At the tender age of eleven, Julian had no idea of the “sacrifices” his parents made to ensure Julian’s ultimate intellectual success. Confusion coiled in the belly of a boy who didn’t quite understand why Richard was so quick to anger. The tension usually didn’t release until the next day, their apartment much too small, and too crowded, for the two to cool off. As his father’s temper was quick in those days, (especially in regards to Julian), their household littered itself with shouting matches, only broken by the shatter of nearby glassware.

That, he thought, was the first spark of mistrust. Amsha Bashir didn’t confront, or act, just watched as her son was unfairly punished and scolded, only showing her internal support when he didn’t need it anymore, only held his hand, and cradled his head to her chest after Richard had been long gone.

Julian wondered, now that his father was locked away, what would he do with her silence now?

“I’m just nervous, that’s all.” He said finally, folding the garment in his hands with some finality.

Mardah smiled at him sadly, “It’s going to be fine. Once it’s over, you’ll realize you had nothing to worry about.”

“Course,” he agreed distantly, then with more absurdness, “I know it’s nothing.”

Accepting his response as genuine, she relaxed in her seat. Then after a moment, “Hey, Jules?” The pet-name rolled easily off her tongue, and he immediately recoiled, an acidic taste creeping up his throat, “you know that you can tell me.” Tentatively, she hid her eyes below her fringe, and continued, “Garak said you were exiled, like him.”

Julian could see where this was going, and stopped her. With a stern look he started, “First of all, I was not exiled. The Federation doesn’t exile people, alright? And second, my name is Julian, yes? Julian. For fucks sake, it’s not that hard to remember. Ju-li-an. Okay?”

“Okay-” she relented quickly, eyes wide in surprise, “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

“No you didn’t, did you?” He continued, harsh words tumbling out before he could reason himself to stop them.

“I just wanted to help.” Mardah defended, a bit of indignation creeping up her spine.

“Yes well-” _Well don’t_. Before he could say something he regretted, Julian reconciled the fact that Mardah was not his father, and most likely did have the best intentions, and honestly didn’t deserve his little anxiety filled temper tantrum. “-I appreciate it.” He ended, slowly, uncurling his hands and forcing himself to relax. A quiet quickly engulfed the room, Mardah loudly shifting from her place on the mattress. Embarrassed, he softly raised his gaze to her and whispered, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m just stressed, I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“Well think of it this way,” Mardah began, as if to ease the room, “if it turns out to be a disaster, you can just move to a different sector. I mean, you already did it once, you could do it again.”

He laughed, feeling a bit lighter already. “So, the black then?”

Mardah lumbered over the pile of discarded clothes, and leaned toward him, extracting the sweater from his hands, “I should think so,” she agreed. “I think a necklace would look nice with it, do you have any?”

Relieved at the subject change, he asked, “I have two.” Grunting as he pushed himself off the ground he waded across the room and listed, “I’ve got a gold one, it’s on the longer side. I’ve also got a silver one. It’s shorter, I think.” Stopping at the dresser he opened the top drawer and pulled out a thick, rectangular black box.

“The silver one.” Mardah decided, extending her hand out for the necklace. He opened the box carefully, and selected the thinly chained accessory, setting the remaining few on the top of the dresser.

“Here you are,” Julian stepped back over and handed off the jewelry.

She admired it and stood up, “I like it. You pick it out?” She unclasped the hook and gestured for him to try it on.

Julian obediently turned as she wound the necklace over his shoulders, and around his neck, “Depends on how you define _pick out_. My mum wanted me to have something to wear to my starfleet graduation, and she made me choose between this and a necklace with pearls the size of my eyeballs.” She fastened the clasp and patted his shoulder. “Shame I never got the chance to wear it,” he said softly, fingering the pendent. With an overdrawn smile, he turned for her assessment.

“You made a good choice,” Mardah decided finally. “Where are you meeting again, tomorrow?”

“At Garak’s, I guess. I’m not actually sure where that is. He was vague about the whole thing.”

She nodded distantly, and mentioned, “Maybe you’ll get to meet that lover he’s got hidden away.”

Julian’s breath hitched, _Lover?_ “I didn’t know Garak was with someone.” He replied with the nonchalance of someone who cared a little too much.

Mardah shrugged. “They seem to get on well. I mean, I haven’t met her, but Garak seems, lighter, somehow.” She smiled, abashed, “Leeta and I thought you were dead the moment you went after him that first time. But, here you are, and that’s gotta mean something, right?”

Julian tried to reign in his disappointment, because honestly, if he had to choose between Garak’s availability and his own life, well, it wasn’t much of a choice, was it? And-- It wasn’t like he was interested in Garak anyway, not really. There was no way Julian was attracted to Garak in any sense of the word. At all. Ever.

Well, perhaps a little.

But, it didn’t really matter now did it? Soon, Julian would be reunited with his mother, and Garak would be out of his life, forever. There have been so many forevers, his enhancements, his exile...at least this time he could see it coming. It wasn’t life changing, but it was a start. When he and his mother reunite, he and Garak would permanently part ways.

And that would be that.

The computer chirped by his side, signalling an incoming transmission. Mardah stepped toward it first, accepting the call without asking. Leeta appeared on the screen in a wide eyed fervor. Her gaze slid over Mardah and landed precisely onto Julian, “Julian! Thank the prophets, you need to get down here, now.”

Julian sidled up beside Mardah in front of the screen, “Where are you, what’s happened?”

“We’re at the hospital.”

“Who’s we?” Mardah asked from beside him.

“It’s Garak. He’s collapsed, I didn’t know what to do--”

Mardah leaned forward urgently, “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.”

And for just a moment, Julian swore that the world stopped turning. 

* * *

After hailing a metro and sprinting the final two blocks in a delirious, hurried haze, Mardah and Julian burst into the hardwood hospital lobby. The admin on duty didn’t bat an eyelash as they stalked up to the counter in a simultaneous motion, faces red and short of breath. “Doctor Bashir,” she greeted mildly, her gaze set on the computer before her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, then added, “On your day off?”

“Miss Getri,” Julian greeted in return, deciding to show some semblance of normalcy in his tone, “Don’t you look lovely today?”

Admin Getri raised her eyebrows in that distinct way she always did to signify that Julian was full of shite. She tucked a gray curl behind her ear as she finally turned away from the desk screen. “What’s the name?”

Julian leaned intrusively over the counter so he could see the screen, “Garak.”

Typing it in, he was returned with an unimpressed look, “First name?”

He took in a breath, then turned to Mardah, who stepped in, “Elim, Garak Elim. Or Elim Garak, I’m not sure how you-”

“Oh, you mean the Cardassian?” Greti stopped typing and pointed down the hallway, “He’s in the inpatient ward. Sathe is on today, he’ll show you the room when you get there.” She turned back to her monitor, effectively dismissing them.

Patting the desk in thanks, Julian nodded Mardah to follow him to Garak.

“You know Mr. Garak?” Sathe asked once they reached the Ward, sounding more impressed than inquisitive.

“We’re his…” Julian trailed off, searching for the right word.

“We’re his friends.” Mardah finished for him, with a knowing look.

“Really? That is so lucky. I don’t care what anybody says about Cardassians. That guy,” he jabbed his thumb toward the door, “is hilarious.”

Julian and Mardah exchanged a confused look. Reproachfully, Julian questioned, “Are you sure that’s Garak in there, not some Cardassian imposter?”

Sathe shook his head with a laugh, “No, he’s just flying that’s all. Passed out from pain, apparently. He’s getting some good stuff.” Readjusting his clipboard under his arm, he allowed, “You can see him if you want. I just need to discuss something with Bashir first.” Mardah smiled tightly as she passed them, and with one last look, she turned the knob and slipped inside.

Julian crossed his arms, lowering his voice, “What’s going on Sathe?”

“Look, Bashir, none of us know left from right with Cardassians. We know it’s not entirely ethical, nor in your job description, but if you want to treat him? Administrator Cere said ‘Be my guest’. I took the liberty of taking a quick scan while he was asleep.” Sathe sighed and moved in closer, scanning the area to make sure they were alone, “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He confessed, “There’s some kind of implant, connected to his postcentral gyrus. It’s really set in there. The implant has wires connecting the device to Garak’s central nervous system. Basically whatever it is, and whatever it’s doing-- it’s not coming out, and it’s not about to stop.”

“Fuck,” Julian cursed, running a hand through his hair, “Fucking hell, I need to talk to him. Is he lucid?”

Sathe shrugged, “You thought he was more likely to be an imposter than tell a good joke. You tell me.”

Julian looked at Sathe, distinctly hardened as he passed him, “Tell Cere that he’s under my care for the remainder of his visit.” Hand closing around the doorknob he directed, “Nothing is administered unless I say so from now on, understand?”

Sathe shrugged, looking put upon all of a sudden, “Yes, fine, Bashir’s the doctor on duty. I get it.”

Julian bit his tongue, stopping himself from saying something he couldn’t take back, such as _You’re incompetence is astounding_ , or _You could’ve killed him_ , or _Never touch Garak ever again_. He settled for a simple nod, and turned to enter the room.

The door creaked quietly, quiet giggles traveling from across the room. Julian slipped inside and closed the door behind him. Leeta sat next to Garak in the nearest chair, with Mardah sitting on the arm beside her. They stopped their laughter and turned toward him.

“Hey Julian,” Leeta greeted, momentarily letting go of Garak’s hand to wave, “did the Doctor tell you anything?”

Julian pursed his lips, wandering over to Garak’s other side, “Only that Garak is a comedian, and his life in my hands now.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Julian said to Garak, “Lucky for you, I’m the best there is.”

Garak eyes blinked at him dazedly, and joked dryly, “I feel better already.”

Julian tried to laugh in response, but his breath pulled back, his smile falling flat, “I’ve got some questions for you, if you’re up for it.” He glanced over to Mardah and Leeta on Garak’s other side, then turned back to Garak, “They may be personal. We can do this alone, if you’d like?”

Garak sighed, then turned to the girls, “Give me and the good Doctor a moment, would you?”

They exchanged a short look and nodded, Leeta squeezing his hand offering, “I wanted to get some Tea anyway.” Mardah patted his leg, and together they left, the room feeling empty, and just the tiniest bit more intimate.

“I’m assuming,” Garak began, in a quiet voice that was unlike him, “that he told you about the implant?”

Julian scooted up closer to him, “What is it? Some kind of torture device?”

Garak looked away, his eyes trained on his hands. After a moment he confessed, “Not exactly. More like, the opposite, if you will.”

“What do you mean?”

Eyes furtively glancing toward the door, Garak began in a hushed whisper, “In my formative years, I worked as a gardener for some important officials, who I obviously can’t name, for the sake of confidentiality. Being in this position set me as an easy target for aspiring political seat-holders, who weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty in order to gain any kind of leverage. This wire, wasn’t a punishment, it was a gift. When in a situation where I could potentially experience pain, this device would allow me to experience pleasure instead.” There was a silence, where Julian couldn't decide even where to even begin with this absolute cockerry.

“Best jokes my arse, this isn’t funny.” Julian shook his head in amazement, “It was the Obsidian Order, right? Tain did this to you?”

Julian didn’t know Garak had the capacity to look surprised, but there it was. “How do you know that name?” He demanded, instinctively sitting upright.

“I’m asking the questions here,” Julian retorted, crossing his arms, “Now when I’m just Julian, you can lie to me however you like, but when I’m Doctor Bashir I expect nothing less than the truth from you.”

Garak wrung his hands, almost sheepish. Almost. “This wire,” He began, in an effort to pull the subject back to less dangerous grounds, “I tried turning it off, a few months ago. It was breaking down-- wasn’t meant for continual use-- but my body...I suppose I’ve become dependent on it, on the higher endorphins. It’s not something that I’m proud of, but there comes a time when everything around you is so much, and you just need to escape. I’m sure you of all people understand me.”

Garak couldn’t meet his eyes, vulnerability escaping his usually well crafted features. It was breathtakingly honest, and against Julian’s better judgement, strikingly beautiful. “But now it’s breaking down and taking you with it.” Julian stated.

With a tired snort, Garak leaned back against his pillows,“Trust me, the irony is killing me.”

Julian smirked, “You’re not funny.”

Garak returned the smile, a bit of flirtation in the crease of his cheek, “Isn’t it unethical for a Doctor to lie to their patient?”

“Not when their patient is Elim Garak.”

Garak’s eyes narrowed, “And yet another name I don’t remember telling you.”

Julian sighed, their moment broken, “Now’s not the time for this.” He stood up, “I’m assuming this has some kind of the trigger device? I’ll need someone to get it. We need the wire off, this instant.”

Letting the matter go, Garak decided, “I’ll have Leeta fetch it, when she comes back. I’ll tell her where it is.”

Nodding in agreement, Julian continued, “This won’t be easy. You’ll go through a withdrawal period, and there could be permanent damage to your postcentral gyrus. Life risk increases depending on the damage it has so far withstood. Once the device is off, I’ll more firmly know our options available.”

Garak bowed his head in assent, and checked the clock beside him, “Don’t think this gets you out of anything.” He reminded cryptically.

“I’m sorry?”

Setting his shoulders, Garak addressed him plainly, “Tomorrow? Your mother?”

“Garak--”

“She’s excited to see you.”

Julian’s body tightened, “You’ve talked to her?” Garak smiled, “Well what did she say?” He asked excitedly, taking his spot back on the edge of Garak’s mattress, “Tell me her exact words.”

“She said,” Garak began for effect, taking enjoyment out of Julian’s bright eyed enthusiasm, “And I quote, ‘I’m excited to see Julian.’”

Julian slapped his hand down to Garak’s, taking it with a firm grip and choked, “That’s just how’d she’d say it too!”

Garak snorted through his nose, then squeezed his hand back. Quietly, he imparted, “She’s missed you, very much Julian.” Catching Julian’s eye he continued, “I must admit, I was looking forward to seeing you two reunite.”

Julian inhaled sharply, his sincere thanks caught in his throat. “Really?” Garak nodded. “I suppose it is rather exciting isn’t it? Like everything is finally coming together. The end of an era.”

Garak stroked his thumb over Julian’s knuckles, and amended, “I think you’ll find, my dear Doctor, that oftentimes what interests me is not the end of an era, but the beginning. You and your mother will have a lot to catch up on, and alot to look forward to. This exile won’t be without it’s benefits.”

“I’m not in exile.” He said forcefully, “The Federation doesn’t exile people.”

Garak audibly sighed, and their eyes met. “What would you call this then?”

“A vacation?” Julian offered weakly, unable to break Garak’s gaze, slowly finding that he didn’t quite want to.

“Please allow me to get you in touch with a better travel agent.” He joked wryly, “Absolutely dreadful work if this is where they sent you.”

Julian laughed quietly, “Oh I don’t know,” he began, moving in just a bit closer, the room fuzzy, blurred lines melting together into almost non-existence. Garak’s features sharp and distinct, his rough hand contrasted by the surprising smoothness of his gray hued cheeks,“-it hasn’t been all bad.”

“No?” Garak straightened his back, returning the gesture, their hands still clasped, their eyes still met.

Mesmerized, Julian realized that he was leaning in further, his breath held in a mix of captivation and want, Garak’s cool gaze not just beautiful but reverent, “No.”

The door squeaked as it opened, and Julian jumped up from his seat, face hot, his hand trembling. Leeta entered first, head popping in just the tiniest bit. “We all clear?” Leeta asked, and without waiting for a response, she opened the door wider, Mardah in tow.

Garak regarded her and set his eyes straight to Julian’s, “I think we’re clear, aren’t we, Doctor?”

“Crystal.” Julian replied breathlessly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Leeta raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Turning to Garak she showcased a small plastic cup, “We brought you some tea.” She walked over and set it on the tray beside him, explaining, “they didn’t have your usual, but I remembered that you said you liked your tea on the spicy side, so I thought you might like to try this.”

Garak minded the cup, and smiled lightly, “That was very thoughtful. Thank you, Leeta.” She nodded and moved to return to her seat beside him, “Before you make yourself comfortable, I do, however, have to ask you for a favor.” She tilted her head in askance and he continued, “At my home, there is a device. It is a box with a big red button in the middle, absolutely tasteless. It’s in the compartment I showed you a few months ago, I’m sure you remember.”

In a faux whisper Leeta clarified, “The secret one?”

Exasperated, Garak replied, “Yes, the secret one. Do you think that you can find it, and bring it here?”

Leeta patted his arm, “If I can’t, I’m sure your lady can help me find it.”

“She’s not-” Garak began with a quick glance to Julian. If Julian didn’t know any better, he’d say Garak almost seemed _guilty_.

“You’ve met her?” Mardah whined, “I want to meet her! Can I come?”

Garak shook his head at the two, dismayed, before a certain insight crossed his features, “Actually, that sounds like a splendid idea. And perhaps, Julian,” Garak met his eye again, and Julian found that he really couldn’t look away, “Why don’t you join them?”

“Someone ought to stay here with you,” he protested.

“Nonsense. I’m not going anywhere, and my condition is stable, at the moment. You three go, and tell-” he gave a melodramatic sigh, “tell my lady of my condition. She’s probably worried.” Then in an unfamiliar voice Garak related, “She’ll feel much better, if it comes from you. Julian.” His heart thudded. “-Because you’re a doctor, of course.”

“O-Of course.” He echoed.

Mardah excitedly pulled Leeta up from her chair, leading her toward the door, “Well, come on. Let’s go meet the lady of the house!”

 _Yes,_ Julian thought unfairly, _Let’s_.


	9. Chapter 9

After hitching a ride with a nurse on her lunch, and a quick skip down the block, Julian found himself absolutely transfixed by the clearly handwritten chalkboard sign on the window.

“Garak’s Clothiers?” Julian read in disbelief, “Is this real? You would tell me if this wasn’t real right?” In sheer amazement he took in the small shop, it’s light hardwood paneling outlining a large rectangular window with a few clothing items gracefully showcased inside. Those garments were designed by Garak’s hand, sewn together by Garak’s careful planning. It seemed so mundane for the man that he’d come to know. _Enigmatic prick._

Mardah stood next to him and crossed her arms, “Oh, it’s real alright.” She jerked her head to her right, “He made that shirt Leeta’s wearing.”

Julian snapped toward Leeta, as if he could recall her daywear just by staring at her oversized parka, “What?” He laced his hands over the top of his head in amazement, “I stalked him for a month! How did I never see this?”

Mardah stifled a laugh, “That is so cute! You do think that you were stalking him! I thought Garak was kidding!”

“Excuse me?”

“Real stalking has a degree of stealth involved,” Leeta clarified, pulling the keys out of her pocket.

“Oh my god,” Julian shook his head, “At first I didn’t understand how you all got along, but now I get it, you three are a little group of stalking police aren’t you? Crusading the urbanized streets of Bajor, using your understanding of language for evil instead of good. If you three weren’t so adorable, I would have half a mind to pull your pigtails and call you mean names like know-it-all, and bookworm.”

Mardah gave him an odd look, “You think Garak is adorable?”

With a cough, Julian pushed past her and hovered behind Leeta, “How’s that door coming?”

Leeta turned the knob and the door swung open, “Don’t worry Julian, your crush is safe with us.” She entered the pitch black room.

“I don’t have- you are deliberately misreading-”

Mardah patted his shoulder, pushing past him to follow Leeta inside, “Take it easy, Doctor, you know we’re just kidding. I mean, come on, you and Garak? That’s a walking disaster if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Right,” Julian agreed unconvincingly, following Mardah into the darkness, “‘course it is.”

As they weaved through the pitch dark Clothiers, Julian eyes adjusted to the darkness, making out racks of clothing and a modest counter. Ignoring the ominous creaks in the floorboards, he followed the line of Mardah’s silhouette behind a curtain into the backroom, where Garak undoubtedly did most of his work. It seemed that his workshop was an organized chaos, everything in it’s rightful place, even though the method seemed imperceptible to anyone but Garak. How utterly quaint.

Julian bumped into Mardah’s back, and he heard the harsh turn of a lock, Leeta apparently opening another passageway. Opening the door, she ascended some stairs, quietly tiptoeing up to the second floor, and Mardah followed in suit. Julian, after finding the knob, closed the door behind him, and trailed slowly behind.

“Hello?” He heard Leeta call out tentatively, “It’s Leeta. Anyone home?” From the top of the stairwell, he saw lights flicker on, making the rest of the journey seem much less ominous. Leeta strove forward in search of the trigger, and Julian reclaimed her spot at the top of the stairs. _So this is Garak’s place_. He thought to himself, mentally mapping every inch of the room. It was clean, pristine almost, clutter apparently non-existent when Garak was concerned.

“Is Garak’s house always like this?” Julian asked Mardah under his breath.

Mardah only shrugged, “I don’t come here often.” She explained, “Leeta comes over here almost once a week, she ought to know.”

Absorbing the living room, his eyes landed on a shelving apparatus that reminded him distinctly of home, “Oh my god.” He exclaimed, advancing toward them on the hardwood floor, “Garak has books. Real live books, oh- I can’t believe it.” Crouching down in front of the shelf, he tried to read the titles along the spine, “Cardassian, Cardassian, Cardassian, Card- oh, wait a moment.” He paused on a title, written in plain Standard, “Prince of Foxes.” Pulling the book out of it’s place, he studied it with alarming concern, and opened the front cover. He read the inscription. _To my dearest Sha, my favorite forever_. Reading it again twice over, his hand tightened around the cover. _You’re his new toy,_ Agent Ranya whispered mockingly in his ear. “What the absolute fuckery is this?”

Mardah started to walk toward him, “What’s what?”

“Julian,” He heard Leeta call out. Turning, book clenched in his fist, he took in the sight of her flushed face, eye wide and unbelievably apologetic. “Please don’t be mad.” Julian snapped up from his crouch, advancing toward her in long strides, “I didn’t know-- I mean, I don’t know how I didn’t realize--” She took a step back, as he stopped right before her, jaw tightly clenched. “I am so sorry.” Leeta repeated uselessly in an almost inaudible whisper. Then, “Don’t be angry with me.”

Julian regarded her sharply, bitter resentment bubbling in his veins, trying to remind himself to reign it the fuck in. “How could you not know?” Leeta bit her lip, and shrugged faintly. Then, with a set in her shoulders, she exited down the hall, and Julian shadowed her. Stopping at the last door on the right, her hand circled the knob, but instead of turning it, she gave one last look to Julian. In a small voice, Leeta asked, “Would you like to meet the lady of the house?” It was in that moment that Julian wondered if his life was a tragedy, or just one. sick. game.

Leeta opened the door.

Inside the lady sat, perched on edge of her bed, wringing her fingers. At the sound of the door she looked up and met Julian’s eyes instantly. Her hands moved up in slow motion to cover her mouth, and her shoulders hitched, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and the rage inside Julian’s heart extinguished.

“Mum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! I know, but there's too much drama, it can't all happen at once!


	10. Chapter 10

Amsha Bashir smiled, laughter bubbling underneath the steady stream of tears that ran down her cheeks. “Julian!” She stood up, her hands reaching toward him instinctively, shaking her head in disbelief, “fuck, I-- I can’t believe it!”

Julian took two long strides and encompassed her in a tight embrace, body shaking, his thoughts rambling in a thousand different directions, all echoing the one sentiment, _She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay. Fuck. She’s okay._

“Mum,” he began his voice thick with emotion, his eyes blurring in tears and his mother’s black hair that smelled just so. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.” Julian confessed in a whisper, quiet enough that only she would hear. He felt her shoulders hitch.

“I’ve missed you too.” She repeated back quietly. And then he closed his eyes, and let himself feel her warmth in his arms, let the world pass him by to stitch the moment into his memory. Amsha laid her head against his chest, right under his shoulder and sighed. “My Julian.”

He took in a shaky breath, reigning in his tears, promising himself not to cry in front of his mother. It was then that he realized truly how long it had been, how much had happened, and suddenly his bones felt chained to the earth, his chest tight, his head swirling toward the sky in a weightless white, unable to breathe.

“Shhh, Julian it’s okay now, it’s okay.” Amsha took Julian’s face into her hands, thoughtlessly wiping the tears he couldn’t stop. “It’s okay, yes?” She soothed, nodding slowly, urging him to join her. After a moment, he nodded back, hiccuping and catching his breath.

She smiled. Wringing her arms around his neck, she hugged him again, “You will always be my favorite surprise.”

Even through his tear-streaked cheeks he found the way to make a disgusted face, “Mum…”

“I always forget how tall you are.” She continued, abruptly, “Whenever I think if you, you hardly come past my chin.” Leaning back she looked up at him, “I was scared I would only have memories left, that I lost you. I was angry that the only Julian I could bear to remember was that ten year old boy who loved his mum more than anyone else in the world.” She bit her lip, eyes welling up once more. “Julian, I have to apologize, for what happened.”

“Mum,” Julian staved, “you really don’t have to--”

In a choked voice she said, “I’m sorry I’ve failed you so much, Julian. I’m sorry you’re stuck with your old mum. I’m sorry that I’m so selfishly grateful that you’re here, and I’m not alone.” Then, finally, “I’m sorry your dad’s such an ass.” Hugging him tight, she continued, “Thank you for coming.”

“Mum,” Julian began, not sure what to say, or where this all came from, “of course I would find you. Always.”

“I thought you hated me.” She admitted, muffled against his shoulder.

He shifted his chin to the top of her head and held her tighter. Then in a soft whisper corrected, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Amsah wiped her cheeks against the top of his undershirt, and pulled away only to lean up and kiss both of his cheeks in that motherly way she often did. “How did you become such a good son?” Amsha pressed her hand to his jaw and cheek in wonder, “How are you mine? How did I get so lucky?”

Julian smiled, “It was that bottle cap with the number 13 inscribed on the inside that you found when you were thirteen, Remember? Because of that cap you made out with Jason Canelli, found a fiver in your old skirt pocket, and then you had me 15 years later. We’ve been over this.”

She gave a full body laugh, sitting down on the edge of her bed, “I tell you one story, and you’ll never let it go will you?”

Julian joined her on the mattress, and continued, “I just think you’re really underestimating the impact that this bottlecap has made on our lives.”

She took his hand, and held it, across the space between them. After a moment of silence, her hand moved to pull at the curling strands at the nape of his neck, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair so long! It hasn’t been that long before has it?” Amsha asked, in a mix between a laugh and a sniffle.

“God, already mum? I’ve only just got here!” Julian protested.

“I can’t help it! Garak likes his hair long, and only complained that it wasn’t longer still. It’s no fun mothering him!”

Julian’s face fell, “About that, mum, god, what happened?”

“No, hush. I don’t want to talk about me right now. Come, tell me how he found you! It was like you disappeared when they gave me the sign out papers, no trace of where you’d been or where you were going. Give me every detail.”

Julian’s breath caught, and in a surprisingly steady voice he answered, “Mum, that’s because you were released before me. By a week, to be exact. It’s on the public record.”

Amsha’s brows pulled together, digesting this new information, “A week? At that time, it must’ve--”

“--Felt like a lifetime?” He finished pulling his hand away and crossing his arms. “It did.”

She shook her head, pulling into herself, then asked in a small voice, “How do you not hate me? I hate me. Julian I’m so sorry-”

“Mum!” He stopped her, “I knew it was a possibility. Everything, all of this,” He waved a hand around, vaguely, “And, I don’t know if it will always be okay...but right now it is. Everything has felt like such a whirlwind of me frantically searching for you, and you’re here. You’ve always been here.” He puffed out a small sigh, “I don’t really understand it. Why Bajor, mum?”

Amsha gave an embarrassed smile, “I feel sort of silly saying it out loud but...It was the first place on the list that I hadn’t been to before. I felt so weighted by everything that happened, I just wanted to go somewhere different, somewhere out there.”

That...didn’t sound silly at all, really. Julian was a tad embarrassed to admit that the same thoughts crossed his mind. That after his entire life fell apart, he really just needed to run away as far as possible before he was logically inclined to put it all back together. “So, you came here,” he prompted, “and then what?”

“Well I was looking for the residential clinic and I stopped into Garak’s tailor shop to ask for directions. He was so nice and charming, and the next thing I knew everything was just spilling out-- and I mean everything. Richard, you, my exile, my parents, even Antoine Vazquez dumping me for Lena Howard on my sixteenth birthday. Out of the blue he tells me to screw the residential clinic and stay in his guestroom,” She gestures to the space around her, “well, in so many words that is.”

“That’s generous.” Julian concedes slowly, not really connecting the man Julian had been stalking for the past month with the Garak his mother had apparently been living with.

“It is! Have you met him yet? I mean you must’ve spoken with him, since he obviously got you here. Julian, he has been such a good confidant to me, my god.” She paused, and took a shaky breath, “I know I’ve never told you this, but Garak has really been the only honest relationship I’ve had in years, decades. For the longest time I thought there was something wrong with me? I’m just-- forgive me for saying this, but being forcibly exiled from the Federation is almost the best thing to have happened to me. For the first time in forever, I finally feel okay.” His heart skipped a beat, and not for the first time, he wished his mother would stop expecting forgiveness for every selfish thought she had. “You’re an adult now, so I’m hoping that it’s okay for me to confide this with you.”

Julian’s breath caught. “Of-- course. Course it is, mum. You can tell me anything. I’m actually glad, you told me this.” A childhood filled with dessicated promises and an adulthood of fruitless regrets should have prepared him for this hollowness inside.

Amsha smiled, leaned over and kissed his cheek, “I knew I could.”

“So you and Garak,” he paused, trying to find the right words. “Are you together then? Like a couple?” Julian asked, then trying not to sound offended by the whole idea. Past the species and age difference, and the fact that Garak is a lying liar who lies, Julian tried to find it within himself to accept his mother’s life choices, because at the end of the day, his mum was right. For the first time, Mum looked settled, contented more like. Honestly, Garak and his mum in a relationship did not offend him. Whatsoever. He was completely fine with it.

Completely.

“Julian!” Amsha shouted, sounding surprisingly offended, “You know I wouldn’t never be unfaithful to your father!” _Oh right_ , Julian thought stupidly, _there’s that too._ “Honestly, the idea’s you jump to sometimes.” Brushing her unclipped hair over her shoulders she prodded, “Anyway, what about you and Garak?”

“What?” Julian bristled, “Me and Garak are not together, not even close. Why would you ask that. Geez, Mum.”

She laughed, and clarified, “I mean, have you met him, yet? How did he find you?”

“Oh, right. Course, I’m just kidding. Take a joke would you?” Hands curling in on themselves on his lap, he shook his head and answered, “I have met him. We met--well actually...we met…”

“Yes?”

There was a suspension, where Julian didn’t know what to say, what to think. And the words came out of their own accord, “Not long ago.” At her nod, he continued, lie already coming into place, “He found my transmission coordinates and told me where you were. I came as fast as I could, went to the residential district and I have a place. You can come live with me now, if you’d like.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! I’ll let Garak know right away when he gets back!”

“Actually, that’s part of the reason why I’m here. You know how we were supposed to meet tomorrow? Well, that plan got sidetracked because Garak’s fallen ill. Nothing serious,” he assured quickly, “but he heard that I was a Doctor, and I met him at the hospital today. I’m treating him.”

“Oh.” Amsha said simply, absorbing this new information, “Okay then. Well, lucky for him, you’re the best there is.” She stood up, her pink robe falling to her sides, revealing a typical Bajoran nightgown. Her hair, brushed through for the night. “Can we go see him?”

Considering the time, and the few choice words he had for Mr. Garak, Julian shook his head, “It’s pretty late, Mum. Why don’t you sleep now, and you can go see him in the morning. I’m going to stay with him tonight. Make sure he is alright til morning.”

Her face fell slightly, and she nodded. “You can’t stay here?”

“Come on, Mum. Soon enough we’ll be sick of each other. It’s only a day.”

She took his hand and nodded, “Only a day.”

After quickly exchanging goodbyes, Julian left Amsha to her room, closing the door behind him. As he made his way back down the hall, Leeta reared up to him at once, holding the small trigger device. “Julian-”

“As far as my mum is concerned,” he began coldly, cutting her off, “I only met both of you today.” He leaned forward and extracted the device from Leeta’s hand. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s right. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he began, ignoring their wide-eyed gaze, “Mr. Garak and I need to have a little chat.” With that, he swept away, briskly canting down down the staircase, and weaving around and out the dark tailor shop.

As the cold air came in a harsh wave across his face, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He thumbed the tiny card still crumbled within there. Without taking a moment to think, hoping not to lose his nerve, Julian quickly removed the card and read aloud the transmission code to his mobile. After a few moments, he heard the line connect to the other end. “I’m in. What do you need me to do?”


	11. Chapter 11

There were a only a few times that Julian advanced passed the stage of that all encompassing anger that hurdled through his bloodstream. Julian usually found himself cool under pressure, using circumstance and adrenaline to take action rather than to dwell on it. The intense anger and frustration, the maddening nature of his position only seemed to quell the tension in his hands. Shoulders dropping, Julian reflected that only once before had he felt so relaxed; it was at the age of fifteen, the adjective enhanced added to the list of words that described him. At this moment, there was only one word that could truly give justice to the entirety of Julian Bashir.

And it was _done_.

“I swear, he was just here!” Sathe went on again, using both arms to gesture uselessly at the empty cot.

Julian crossed his arms and said in a mild tone, “Really? Is that so?”

Sathe’s shoulders went up to his ears, his head pigeoning back and forth. “I don’t know, I think so! He’s your patient!” He accused, hands covering his face.

“Look, just-” Julian sighed, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’ll look for him. He probably just went to get some tea or something else completely pointless.” He turned and walked down the hall without giving Sathe a chance to respond. Garak was going to _get it_ when Julian found him.

After checking through the cafeteria, several janitorial closets, and the washroom, Julian called out tiredly to the empty hallway, “Garak? Are you down here?” Slowly meandering down the abandoned hallway, he peeked into each of the doors’ windows, “Ready or not, here I come.” He muttered to himself darkly, cupping his hands around his eyes into another dark supply room. With a sigh, he began to turn away toward the next room, but stopped, eyes narrowed in consideration. He glanced back into the window, then rested his hand on the door handle, pushing it down.

It was open.

This door was always locked, and yet, here it was. Opening the door slowly, he stuck his head inside, “Garak?” He called out quietly, “Are you in here?” There was a shuffle, and the sound of something dropping. “Answer me, goddamn it.”

There was a short silence, then an almost inaudible, “Yes, Doctor?”

Julian let out a breath of relief, entering the room fully. All the lights were off, an eerie bright blue glow from a far off monitor illuminating the windowless expanse. Looking behind each row of shelving, he called out, “For fucks sake Garak, what are you doing down here-” Right before the last column, he cut short. An empty vial rolled down against his foot. Taking a step forward, he found Garak, against a metal cabinet, hypospray in one hand, empty vials scattered on the floor, guilty looking up at him. Julian’s heart stopped, “Garak, what’s in that hypospray?”

“Triptacederine.” He admitted easily, too easily.

Julian’s eyebrows shot up, “Excuse me? What the hell are you doing Garak, trying to kill yourself? How much did you take?” Crouching down, he snatched the spray from Garak’s loose hand.

“Not nearly enough!” Garak whined, making a grabbing motion toward Julian’s hands. Julian swatted the hands away.

“Stop it right now, Garak I mean it. C’mon, get up. We’re going back to your room.” Setting the hypospray out of reach, he leaned forward, and slung Garak’s arm around his shoulder, then hoisted the two of them up together.

“This is unpleasant.” Garak slurred, his head lolling to Julian’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut. Julian grunted, shifting Garak’s body weight more evenly, then began to trudge out of the supply room, back to the turbolift.

“Good.”

Garak sniffed, “Your bedside manner is appalling.”

Clicking his tongue, Julian led them out of the door, closing it firmly behind him. “Really? That’s too bad. I was going for borderline sadistic.”

Garak hummed against his neck, eyes still fluttered shut, “My my- You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“Mad doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He bit out, beginning their tread down the hallway, “I am astounded at your utter recklessness with your own life! You’re not alone anymore you know. My mum would be devastated if you died. Not to mention Leeta or Mardah.” He paused with a grimace, closing the distance between them and the turbolift, “An absolute ass is what you are.” He pressed for the lift, and the sliding door swept open immediately, “And you lied to me.” Shoving them both inside, he repeated, “You lied to me! So fuck you, Garak. Fuck. You. Floor Five.” He directed the lift.

Garak sighed and leaned against the wall, “We’re not talking about the hypospray anymore, are we?”

Julian grit his teeth and exhaled slowly through his nose, shoulders tense with indignation. He wasn’t going to even dignify that with a response...except. In a cold voice, quiet with distance, “What are you even trying to accomplish, here?” Garak stilled beside him, so Julian plowed on, “Break my heart one way, then lead me down your dark corridors to twist the knife while you’re at it. I can’t believe that I thought you- that we could--.” He stopped himself. Some things weren’t _worth the effort_.

“I’m sor--”

“Don’t.” Julian interrupted sharply. He attempted to turn, and glare, but he could hardly turn his gaze, let alone-- “Fuck. I can barely look at you.”

“If you’re so mad at me,” Garak began softly, his arm looping around Julian’s lower back, “why are you still helping me?”

“I’m a doctor.” He said simply, allowing Garak to rest against him, “It’s who I am.”

“Then you’re a fool.” Garak exacted unkindly, his eyes darting around the room as if it were spinning.

Julian glared forward, fighting the urge to step away and let Garak try to stand on his own. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself.”

The turbolift pinged, and they walked the rest of the way in silence. The room didn’t have it’s same warmth as before, the air septic and stale. “Doctor-” Garak began quietly, as Julian helped him back into his cot, “about Amsha, is she-”

“She doesn’t know.” He interrupted, bringing the internal monitor over, “I told her that you found me, and I just recently made my acquaintance with Bajor.” With a light touch, he applied the cool attachment gel onto Garak’s temples.

“You covered for me,” Garak surmised with a grimace.

He pressed the monitor cable to Garak’s temple, then another to the dip of his chest cavity, “You sound disappointed. I thought you’d be proud of me.” Julian flicked the monitoring screen on, and crossed the room for the trigger device.

“I believe astounded better describes it. It seems the more I try to know the Bashir’s, the less I understand.”

“It’s one of our family charms.” He said dismissively, pulling the trigger from his messenger bag. Ignoring the sinking feeling that everything was about to go terribly wrong, Julian held out the device to Garak, “You’re going to have to turn it off for me.”

“I know.” Garak replied, his voice low, and hands shaking. With a small amount of difficulty he took the trigger and pried open the back compartment, squinting at the inside components. After a moment of study, he unset a wire with a decisive snap. “There. It’s done.” Handing off the broken device to Julian’s waiting hands he asked, “Now what?”

“Now, we wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, so I posted it a bit early!


	12. Chapter 12

Time faded in and out, sometimes moving excruciatingly slow, and then hours flying past without a moment’s notice. Julian had taken to passing the hours by taking periodic biochemical samples, and counting the seconds between every hour, his arms folded over his chest, head tipped back against the wall. Garak, on the other hand, took the time to shift restlessly in his mattress and then, in his moment’s of alert clarity, would recount stories. Julian tried to ignore him the first few times, concentrating on his counting with the utmost importance. After a while, after Julian’s gaze became fogged with dreariness, after his body slumped into his chair, to the point that the object was more apart of him than not, his numbers faded away, and then Garak’s voice filled the void. His tone surprisingly soft, scratchy with overuse and sleep deprivation.

Julian’s eyes flickered up as Garak crossed his arms, voice stopping short. “Who did she choose?” Julian persisted from across the room, surprising them both.

Garak snapped toward him, startled, as if he didn’t think he words reached that far. Then almost uncomfortably, he answered, “She couldn’t. The Oralian Way wasn’t just a religion. It was a community of people, with families. They were husbands, wives, daughters, and sons. But Kelas... he was her husband and she loved him, very much.”

“So then what happened?”

“She killed herself, unremarkably. A coward’s choice. The end.”

“The end? That’s it? What about Kelas? And the rest of them? Did they escape to Bajor?”

“I imagine not. The Union knew of their whereabouts. When it comes to the order, there is no escape.” Garak said mildly, as if Julian were being particularly dense.

He huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back again, “Well if these are the stories you tell your children, it’s no wonder that you turn out the way you do.” Julian clenched his his fists against his sides, “You should be telling good stories, with happy endings.”

Long-suffering, Garak rebutted, “On Cardassia, this would be considered a good story, with a happy ending.”

There were times where Julian thought Garak was being deliberately obtuse, taking gleeful delight in his careful misdirection. It was strange to think that only a short while ago Julian had found this trait fascinating, wholly engaging. As if the whole world centered around Garak, it’s players oblivious. Julian resented that Garak’s games were much more fun when Julian himself was in on them. “That is what you Cardassians call a happy ending? Death to the peaceful opposition when their backs are turned?”

Garak rolled his eyes and sighed. Julian was familiar with _the look_ , in fact, he would argue that he was the most popular recipient of that look, especially with Garak. “The Oralian Way is a direct violation of Cardassian law. It’s practice is frivolous and has no place within the Cardassian Union. The Order was doing them a favor, “ Garak announced bitterly, gaze unnaturally harsh.

Julian couldn’t stop himself. Sitting up straight, he challenged, “By killing them?”

Then in a tone barely passing for civil, Garak allowed, “The Obsidian Order is _much_ more creative than that, but yes, I suppose that would be apart of it.”

Julian blinked, “Wait a second. Did this actually happen?”

 _The look_ returned, “You don’t think I’d be wasting my time telling you quaint little made-up children’s tales did you?”

“Well no,” Julian agreed quickly, “I mean, I don’t think you should be telling any children any of the stories you’re sharing, and quaint is not a word I would use to describe them. Horrific, maybe, downright cruel, possibly, but not quaint. It’s just, these are real? These aren’t folktales, they’re history?”

Garak shifted, “I suppose you could call them that.”

It was in the way Garak edged further into his pillows, the way his eyes never seemed to find his. Garak was, if anything, confrontation, but now, seeing him like this, “Oh my god.” Julian shook his head, unbelieving, “This isn’t history, this is your history. Did you-- was that you? Did you find them? Did you kill them?”

“Doctor, please-”

“Did you go to their underground? Did you take their children, slaughter their parents, tear down their walls, burn the pages of their books? Or did you just watch?”

“I suddenly regret telling you that story.”

“It’s not a story! It’s people!” Julian yelled back, and then he was aware that Garak needed to be resting and not on the receiving end of a shouting match that Julian really wanted to have. Garak was sometimes so soft and charming and vulnerable, that often Julian forgot himself. Forgot who Garak really was. Garak who needed rest, Julian thought again. Garak whose hormones were still severely unbalanced, and Julian was a doctor, which should be his first priority. Always. Julian was about to apologize, and end the conversation, but as soon as he took in a breath Garak interrupted.

“Oralians weren’t people they were traitors, and I eradicated them out of necessity. I would go as far to say it was an act of benevolence!” Garak continued, his voice getting louder, and his pulse rising at an alarmingly fast rate if the monitor had anything to say about it. “That’s the difference between you and I, Doctor. I do what’s necessary. You federations live on false promises and complacency. Don’t try to lecture me on ethics when your unbending tolerance and philanthropy reaches only as far as your fingertips.”

To which then he promptly passed out.

* * *

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Julian launched toward him, suddenly very alert. Thinking back to Sathe offhanded mention of the hyperzine’s location earlier that month, Julian prayed that the compartment was the same in every room. Quickly reaching into the lowest slot he commanded, “Computer: Open compartment 3, Authorization Code 377 beta 4.” The computer chirped in recognition, opening the compartment automatically. With a quick hand, he took the small vial, studied it, thanked whatever god was listening, and loaded the hypospray. Rushing toward Garak’s side, he administered it, and pressed the small emergency button over Garak’s shoulder. Julian called, “I need a nurse, Room C.” He pulled the hypospray away, eyes torn between Garak’s unmoving form or the monitor. Garak wasn’t responding. “Shit- where’s the-”

A nurse entered in a rush, immediately beelining toward Julian, “I need to begin cardiostimulation.” Julian explained quickly, beginning manual compression, “I don’t-”

She didn’t wait for him to finish. Darting over to the holding system she said quickly, “Computer: Open compartment A, Authorization code: J1 Beta 2.” It opened, and she took the two small hand sized defibrillators from their place. “Beginning cardiostimulation,” she said aloud and Julian quickly removed his hands.

Without taking a moment’s pause, she pressed the stimulator to Garak’s chest. And then at Julian’s soft insistences, she pressed again, and again, and again, and again. “One more.” He insisted. Without hesitation, she pressed again.

The monitor jumped, and returned to a consistent wave. Julian looked at Garak, then at the monitor, then to the nurse, and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. The nurse sighed too, still holding the paddles at the ready, but her shoulders dropped, relaxed. “Thank you.” Julian said to her, his eyes still trained on Garak’s face. He could hear her walk around the room, replacing the paddles in their rightful place. The buzz of the sanitation wheel sounding immediately from the small alcove.

“Anytime.”

Garak eyes fluttered, but gave no indication of waking up. “It’s just one thing after another with you, isn’t it?” Julian said to him quietly.

“What?”

Julian looked up, and met the nurses very confused gaze, “Oh sorry,” he apologized quickly, “Not you. Him.” He pointed to Garak, “He just- It’s like he tries to make my life harder.”

She raised her eyebrows and replied slowly, “By having a heart attack?”

“What? No-- That’s not what I--He’s my friend, well actually he’s not my friend. I mean, I know him, but, he and I-- we’re...” He stopped before he could make a bigger mess out of himself. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood, that’s all.” Now she just looked more confused, “Like my mum, she always used to say that playing the holoprograms with the safety set so low was going to get me killed. In reality, it just broke my arm, but that didn’t stop her from saying _I told you so_. Nor did it stop her from from saying ‘living with me was sometimes more painful than birthing me.’”

The nurse’s eyes widened, her mouth downturned, all of a sudden very concerned, “That’s a horrible thing to say!”

“No it’s- It’s federation humour.”

“Oh!” She said, like he was now a reasonable person and not just a human with a bad taste in jokes.

Julian sighed, then turned back to Garak. “I don’t understand, this shouldn’t be happening. I deactivated the wire, he should be acclimating, not getting worse. There’s no computer here that can do compositional analyses is there?”

She shook her head, “You’ll have to go to the diagnostic department on the first floor, Room 11. If you have the samples stored, you can access and analyse them down there.”

Julian eyed her, then Garak, whose eyes were still firmly shut. “Okay.” Leaving Garak alone was out of the question. The nurse seemed to handle herself well, but... It didn’t sit well with him to leave Garak out of his sight. Not now. “Okay. Let’s get a trolley, and the handheld monitor, and bring the paddles. We’re going down to the first floor.”

With a nod she strode forward, but then stopped, right before the door, “Not to question you or anything, but this is highly unusual.”

Julian laughed, “If anything concerning Garak and I turns out normal, I’ll let you know.”

It might have been a trick of the light, but Julian swore he saw the corner of Garak’s mouth turn upward.

* * *

 “This is cozy,” Julian muttered unenthusiastically as he hovered over the nurse’s left side, Garak’s trolley digging into the backs of his thighs. He was pretty sure the turbolift had more space than this, which he supposed made sense in a convoluted sort of way.

The nurse looked up at him from her seat, a quick glance that was a mix of _It’s not my fault_ and _You’re the one who brought the patient._ Julian had the grace to shrug sheepishly. She tapped the keypad and the biochemical report flickered onto the tiny screen. “It’s ready, Doctor.”

“Perfect. Now I want you to display the samples by chemical composition.” She did as he bid, and they studied them for a moment. She tapped a few commandments into the diagnostic computer and an isolated sample appeared. “Which sample is this?”

“Seventeen.”

“Let’s try a bit later shall we?” He suggested, not finding what he was looking for at first glance.

“What are we looking for?”

“I’m not sure yet.” He said slowly, squinting at the screen in the darkness, “I assume we’ll know when we find it.”

She nodded, then typed a command to bring up, “Sample twenty-five.”

“Next, try twenty-eight.” She skipped forward, and he continued, “Thirty. No, thirty-three. No, thirty-five. No, forty-”

“Wait,” The nurse held up a hand, then pointed at sample thirty-five, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Julian leaned in further. His eyes widened, and he smiled, “And that’s what we’re looking for. Do you know if Doctor Sathe took any samples before we shut down the implant?”

She shrugged, “There’s one way to find out.” After a few moments of careful navigation, the nurse gave a triumphant, “Found it. Do you want me to superimpose it for molecular structure?”

“Along with sample thirty-five, please and thank you.” This part, only took the click of a button.

The side by side comparison loaded onto the screen, both doctor and nurse transfixed. “It’s changed.” They said simultaneously.

The nurse began, “The leukocytes-”

“The toxins must have altered them!” Julian finished, excitedly.

“So what’s our next step?”

He paused, and thought for a moment. “Well, we’ll have to synthesis some new leukocytes, but- fuck- that could take weeks! I mean, look at him, we don’t have that kind of time. He’s got three days, four at most.”

Tentatively, the nurse suggested, “Earlier you said you deactivated his wire. Could we turn it back on?” Julian hesitated.

“Miss Jabara,” In coordination, they both swirled around to see Garak, his eyes half-lidded, smiling at them humorously, “we must stop seeing each other like this.”

“Garak!” Julian half-turned toward him in surprise, “you’re awake!”

Garak did a half-aborted motion which could have been a shrug, then turned back to the nurse, “It’s been too long. Tell me, how is your fiance?”

She nervously looked to Julian, then back to Garak. “Husband, actually,” She corrected with a soft smile.

Garak smiled back, looking downright pleased, “It sounds like he’s doing well for himself, then. Now, since we’ve all found what we’re looking for, how about you wheel me out of this little cave and bring me back toward civilization.” They both just stared at him, “I am not joking. Doctor, this instant.” Garak commanded, spurring Julian into motion.

“God sorry-” Julian jumped behind him and opened the door. The hallway light bathed the room as Julian bent forward pulled the trolley out of the diagnostic cabinet.

After a loud exhale, Garak waved a hand, “Thank you. This is much better.” Jabara trailed behind, looking unsure if she should follow.

Julian made the decision for her, “It’s alright, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you, for your help.”

She nodded with a soft smile, then walked forward and rested her hand on Garak’s arm, “Take care, Sir.”

He patted her hand, “I’ll do my best, my dear.” Jabara patted his arm, gave one unfathomable look to Julian, then dismissed herself.

Once she was out of hearing range, Julian snorted. “God, you just have to know everyone, don’t you?” He griped lowly, pulling Garak along toward the lift.

“I can’t help that I’m in high demand.”

“ _Can’t help_ ,” Julian mimicked in an exasperated sigh, “After we turn your wire back on, maybe I can make another one to help that smug attitude of yours.” He stopped and pressed for the lift, which opened in a swift automatic motion then pushed Garak inside.

“You aren’t turning my wire back on.” Garak told him simply, once the doors were shut.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t consent.” Garak turned over and leaned on his forearm, giving Julian a hard stare, “You cannot turn it back on. I refuse.”

Julian blinked, and took a step back, “What do you mean you refuse? I mean, you heard me back there didn’t you? Three days, Garak. I don’t have time, I don’t have the information. I mean, I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker!”

“Do what you can, but I don’t want it on. Ever again.” Garak was dead serious.

“Okay.” Julian agreed in incredulity, “ Alright. Options, then. Um- Our only option, then, is that I need to get in contact with Cardassian medical files. Something that can give me enough information on Cardassian chemical composition so I can synthesis the leukocytes as fast as I can. Any way you can help me with that?”

“I think I can do you one better. He not only has files, but he is a doctor himself. An expert on Cardassian physiology. And to make it easy, he already lives on Bajor.”

Julian perked up, wondering why this would be the first he was hearing of this,“Well- That’s great! How can I find him?”

“I have his address,” Garak admitted, slowly, “but there might be a _small_ issue.”

“Okay, what is it?”

Garak threaded his hands over his stomach, “I believe he still wants me dead.”

The lift chimed.

“Of course he does.”


	13. Chapter 13

Julian read the scribbled note for the hundredth time that day, shifting his weight self-consciously as he debated whether to knock on the door, or just let Garak die and be done with it. His lone figure created a bit of a sight in the long stretch of grassland surrounding him. It took hours of vague hand gestures and long-winded explanations lost in translation before Julian serendipitously stumbled upon this hidden hut which held a striking resemblance to the scene Garak described. Garak’s tone had lightened when he spoke of this place, almost borderline fond. Julian doubted that this Doctor held this place in the same regard, if the hanging sign reading an obviously graffitied (loosely translated) _Witch Doctor_ , said anything about the locale attitudes.

In a quick summoning of courage, Julian tapped the front door lightly, in a way that it could easily be mistaken for a leaf tapping against a window or grass fluttering in the breeze. Still, he did his best to give it a go, and the place did have an abandoned look to it. Weeds, springing along the crumbled stone pathway’s edge, windows either open or broken, taped over with plastic or cardboard. The clouds in the sky were beginning to darken, and although this region of Bajor was much warmer than Ashalla, Julian wasn’t really up to getting caught in the rain. He turned to leave.

“Hello? Who is it?”

Quickly spinning back around, Julian met the gaze of a very concerned looking... Cardassian? Overriding his own shell-shocked surprise, he stepped toward the man, (who was only slightly edging out the doorway), and held out his hand in greeting, “Hello! Julian Bashir, I’m looking for a Parmak? I was told that he lived here. Or somewhere around here.” He added, leaving room for an error, that he was now positive he didn’t make.

He paused, peaking one head out to see if they were alone. “Did one of those hooligans from the Aviary park send you? Be warned, I can perform the Cardassian neck trick and I’m not above helping others perform it too.” Julian stared at him, utterly confused, and the man added, somewhat menacingly, “and I never forget a face.”

Julian raised his hands placatingly, “No- no hooligans sent me! Unless you count Garak as a hooligan, which he might be by Cardassian standards, I’m not sure. Is it right to assume that you are Doctor Parmak?”

The door swung open, and the sky rumbled distantly, the wind picking up in intensity. He stood in the doorway, and said in a light voice, “I am. You can come in.” To which he turned and went straight back into his home. Julian looked over his shoulder, considering braving the storm outside instead. Wishing he was Garak, who had the inane ability to gleefully watch an enemy's demise, Julian followed Parmak into his recluse cottage.

If by any account possible, the inside was, in fact, much less inviting than the outside. There was no internal lighting, the air bit at Julian’s skin, somehow much colder than the breezy outdoors. As he closed the door behind him, Julian felt impossibly locked in. Parmak headed toward the sink connected to a short counter space, weaving around the close quartered furniture with elegant ease. Julian followed him, slowly, half scared he was about to trip or walk through the maze of furniture only to be stuck in a dead end. After shimmying through a small space between the dresser and computer cabinet, Julian stumbled out to find Parmak with two glasses of water. He held out one to Julian, “Take a seat.” He gestured to a tiny dining table, suitable, Julian supposed, for it’s purpose. Which probably didn’t involve normal things such as eating or sitting, or well, dining.

“Excuse the mess.” Parmak apologised softy. He gestured again for Julian to sit at the empty bench (which he reluctantly did, keeping his hands safely wrapped around his glass), and cleared off scatters of annotated papers from the spot on the table in front of him.

“It’s alright.” Julian replied politely, casting distasteful glances at the few empty beaker bottles, crusted with a purple _something_ around the top rim. “I don’t imagine you receive guests very often.”

“Everyone that visits my home is a guest. Whether or not they are welcome,” Parmak sat across from Julian, his hands threaded over the table, “remains to be seen.”

“Right,” Julian agreed slowly, pushing his glass out of reach. “Look, as I understand it, you and Garak are not on the best of terms.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Parmak muttered under his breath.

“I want you to know that Garak and I aren’t really, well, to put it lightly, on the best terms either. But, he’s sick and I need your help. We’re both doctors,” Julian persuaded reasonably, “I’m sure that you understand the kind of responsibility we both share. To help people, no matter the person or circumstance.”

Parmak rolled his eyes, “Only a friend of Garak’s could be so equally hopeful and patronizing.”

Swallowing his indignation, Julian defended, “I wouldn’t call Garak and I _friends_ -”

“That’s what all Elim’s friends say.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not really trying to be patronizing or whatever, all I need is some Cardassian medical files, and I’ll be on my merry way.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Parmak gave him a look that was utterly dumbfounded, “You expect me to just give them to you?”

“Well, I certainly hoped-”

Crossing his arms in a huff, Parmak interrupted, “Didn’t Garak give you _any_ advice before coming here?”

Slowly, Julian supplied, “He did give me one piece….but you’re not going to like it.” Parmak only raised an eye ridge. “He said _Don’t tell Parmak where I live_.”

Parmak leaned back and raised his eyes to the ceiling, clicking his tongue in disbelief, “Absolutely infuriating. Infuriating! The nerve of that man! Assuming that I’d even want to know, assuming that I don’t already know! That is just so typical of him. He hasn’t changed one bit- One bit! You-” He pointed toward Julian, standing up in outrage, “can go.”

Cluelessly, Julian remained seated, “What?”

“-And tell him that he cannot get me back with these... childish antics of his!”

“Excuse me?”

“In fact, tell him that I am taken, and moving in with my girlfriend very soon, and he’s not to bother with me ever again.”

“Parmak-”

“The audacity! The-”

“Wait! Please stop! Stop talking!” Parmak paused in his tirade, looking confused to see Julian still there for some reason. Taking the silence as his cue, Julian began, “Um- a couple things. Firstly, congratulations on moving in with your girlfriend. You seem very...happy. And secondly, I’m not here as some...love ambassador, or whatever you think I am. I really am a doctor, and Garak really is sick, and I know that Garak referred me here under great reluctance. I’m positive it wasn’t his intention to bother you, or woo you, or whatever you think is happening right now. I’m sorry.” He said, not sure what he was apologizing for.

Parmak crossed his arms and leaned back, studying Julian with the familiar kind of scrutiny he usually only received from Leeta or Mardah. As if he was equally simplistic and unfathomable. “What’s wrong with him?” He asked finally, not finding what he was looking for at first glance.

Hopeful, Julian laid out, “He needs newly synthesized leukocytes.”

“Why?”

“I’d rather not say. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.”

“Hmm. That’s a shame, because I’m only helping until I’m absolutely sure that this isn’t some elaborate ruse to get me to...do whatever it is Garak wants me to do.”

Julian sighed, “His leukocytes are toxic. They’re killing him.”

“And how did they get this way?”

Feeling the pit in his stomach growing, Julian continued, “Tain implanted a wire to Garak’s post-central gyrus. It was supposed release endorphins at any sense of pain.”

“Tain has been poisoning him?” Parmak ascertained.

“Not exactly. It works the way it’s supposed to, or at least it did.”

“What do you mean?”

“The wire is only meant for limited use.” Parmak narrowed his eyes, and Julian defended, “I think Garak misses Cardassia.”

Parmak sat down slowly, mentally cataloguing this new information. Distantly, he clarified, “Garak has turned it on.”

“More like never turned it off, but yes. That seems to be the gist of it.”

Chillingly still, Parmak asked, “For how long?”

“Two years?” Julian guessed, thinking back to the deteriorated wire, to his own steady hands shaking at the sight of it.

Parmak was silent a moment, eyes locked somewhere beyond Julian, beyond the small house. Julian felt he could almost just turn around, and find Garak standing there, with that same tired and restless gaze that was, in all ways, impossible, smug, and broken. “Oh, Elim.” Parmak whispered, shaking his head lightly with closed eyes. He stood up, breaking the ice still air and turned to Julian. “I need to be drunk for this. Doctor, would you like to join me?”

Feeling a bit defeated by the entire day, Julian considered how nice it would be to just have even one drink. _Just one fucking drink, god that’d be lovely._ It was then that his father’s hands gripped his shoulders and straightened his posture, reminding him to get over himself and do the right thing. “Garak is on his deathbed,” Julian reminded Parmak and _himself_ gently. “I don’t have time for a drink. I hardly have the time to convince you to help me. Tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it. Tell me what you want Garak to do, and I’m sure he’ll do it!”

“When it comes to Garak,” Parmak began coldly, a slow prickly feeling weaving its way through the air, “what I want is usually irrelevant.”

Julian paused. In a low tone, devoid of the immense frustration building beneath his palms, Julian asked, “What would you have me do, then?”

Ignoring him, Parmak turned, “Why are you so intent to save him? Whatever he’s promised you, I can tell you right now that he’s lying.”

“He hasn’t promised me anything.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Because I’m telling you right now, that would be a mistake.”

“Yes, well it seems that almost anything involving Garak is.” Julian replied quietly, exhaustion taking the fight out of him.” Pressing his palms to his eyes, he said miserably, “Look, I’m not here to argue about why I’m saving him, or whether or not he deserves to be saved. Ultimately, I will keep Garak alive, whether you help me or not. So make a fucking decision,” Julian commanded with no heat, “and stop wasting the little time that I have.” There was a still silence. Then, Parmak chuckled, looking annoyingly charmed. Sitting up straight, Julian eyebrows pulled together, “Don’t you laugh at me.”

Parmak covered his mouth, and waved a hand, “I do apologize. It’s just- I can see why Garak likes you.”

“Excuse me?”

“What would Elim call it? Needless persistence. Constantly striving toward a goal that is already met. Naturally I’m going to help you. I would never have invited you in if I planned otherwise.”

“Oh.” Julian said, feeling relieved, “Well, it certainly didn’t seem like it.”

“Well, to be fair, you came very unprepared. I’m a doctor, not a charity.”

Julian thought back, to Leeta, leaning over her desk and her lips pulled into a small but provocative smile, and Mardah arms crossed, gaze gentle, but firm. _But, if you had something to offer, maybe we could let you know if he’s in._ Cardassians didn’t deal in money, Julian realized, belatedly. “You have a favor?”

“Well, since you asked, I did have a little something in mind,” Parmak’s lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and soft pellets of rain started to patter against the rooftop.

Julian regretted not taking that drink.


	14. Chapter 14

1 Month Later

Julian scrolled down, eyes scanning the words with quick precision. Shoulders slouched over the coffee table, chin pressed into the palm of his hand, he nervously scooted forward in his seat, shifting the padd out of the sun’s glare. His fingers drummed on the table, his patience wearing very thin indeed. Three hours. It had been three hours sitting there, listening to his mother and her friend discuss the finer points of bachelor #2’s ass.

It was torture.

“I was absolutely certain that Erka was about to hit him, and truth be told, I wanted it to happen.”

Julian rolled his eyes. It was a reality holo program for god-sake, all of it was scripted trash. How his mother and her friend could talk about it for hours on end was beyond him.

“That wasn’t even the best part!” Amsha exclaimed, hand waving, almost spilling her coffee over their shared table for the seventh time. “When he got on his knees and proclaimed his love for her, bless my heart, I could have cried!”

“While I do share the sentiment, that the scene itself was touching, it was a little over-dramatic for my tastes.”

“True love is over-dramatic Garak!”

Garak sighed from across the table, eyes looking toward the ceiling for the kind of divine intervention that she clearly needed. Unfortunately for him, those kinds of prayers didn’t get answered when Julian’s mum was involved. “True love? He cheats on her in Series 2!”

“I’ll admit,” Amsha started slowly, “they’ve had a rocky beginning, but true love will conquer all. Besides, it’s not like she hasn’t made any mistakes. Remember that elderly couple?”

“That was not a mistake,” Garak corrects, finger wagging, eyes dazzling, “it was a choice. I’ll remind you, it was either them, or the kids in the broken down orphanage. She’s a victim of circumstance! You of all people should be able to relate to her plight.”

“What is that term?” Amsha pretended to think for a moment, “Projection? Transference?”

“Idiocy, more like. Can we go, yet?” Julian complained, setting down his padd abruptly onto the table.

Both snapped their heads in his direction, looking as though they forgot he was there completely. Amsha turned apologetically toward Garak, “You’ll have to forgive him, he’s always grumpy after a long day at work.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then ruffled his hair for good measure.

“Stop that!” He scooted away from her, and rolled down his sleeve, wiping his cheek grumpily. He gave her a sour look and picked up his padd, fixing his hair in it’s reflective screen.

Garak looked between them contemplatively, then caught the time on the Cafe’s clock despite the sunset’s glare. “I think we took up too much of the good doctor’s time today. Perhaps we should meet up again, next week?” He suggested, finishing his cup of lukewarm tea in a swift movement.

Amsha sighed, and with one last (despondent) look at her son, agreed, “Alright, next week it is.”

Garak smiled and, and took Amsha’s hand in his, “Until next time.”

She smiled back immediately in response and nodded, “Until next time.”

Garak stood up, carefully avoiding Julian’s eye. Ever since Julian returned from his short excursion, it seemed that Garak found it quite difficult to acknowledge any sort of connection between them, not that Julian ever tried to correct the behavior. Anytime he and Julian were in the same room, his smiles dimmed and his arms remained awkwardly by his sides, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. This would’ve been bearable, except for the part where Garak’s eyes followed Julian’s every move, a gaze mix between longing and curious, only to snap back to his tasks every time Julian caught him. Pretending he wasn’t bothered- No doubt wondering what Parmak must’ve said to turn Julian permanently against him. It made Julian wonder if Garak knew Parmak _at all._

Pushing in his seat, Garak’s hands nervously curled around the chair’s back, “It’s been a pleasure, Doctor.”

Julian forced the corners of his mouth into a neutral line, and nodded back at him. Giving one last lingering look to Amsha, who had an embarrassed smile about her, Garak took his leave.

The moment he was out the door, Amsha swatted at Julian’s head. “Ow!” Julian ducked underneath his arms, and whined, “Stop! What are you doing?”

“Why do you have to be so rude to Garak? He’s only trying to be nice!”

“Emphasis on the trying, Mum.” He stood up and gathered his bags, slinging one over his shoulder and carrying one in the crook of his arm. Pushing in his chair, he followed Amsha out of the cafe. “Just because you are set on being his friend, doesn’t mean I have to be.”

He watched her shoulders rise up in distaste. Ahead of him, she forcefully pushed open the exit and began her long gait home, letting the door fall slowly into Julian’s face. “Very mature, Mum,” Julian grumbled to himself, as he pushed through the exit with his shoulder.

The breeze was heavenly. Light and cool, chipping away the bitterness of the winter season with an easy charity. The freezing temperatures that forced Julian to buy three new pairs of gloves ceased abruptly last week, the hard-pressed ice that paved the sidewalks no longer conspiring against him. Julian called it a miracle. Bajorans called it Spring.

This was why his mum had no right to be in such a _sour mood_. Julian walked up to her in a few long strides, and reminded himself to slow his pace when he got beside her. Although Amsha was set on independently going about her day, modern medicine couldn’t cure all of the symptoms of old age. The chilly evenings spent outside clouded her chest and tightened the screws of her joints, leaving her irritable and pained the next morning. A wheezing cough littered the silence throughout the night keeping Julian up in the next room, (which really disturbed his reading).

He caught her arm and forced her to slow down beside him. Amsah ignored him. “Come on, Mum,” he coaxed softly, "keep with me. Doctor’s orders.”

“Don’t be a brat,” she scolded, pulling her bicep out of his loose grip, “Mum’s orders.”

“You being ridiculous,” Julian accused, irritated despite himself. She ignored him, and strove forward, stubbornly ignoring the small pain which looked to be arising in her right hip. Hands clenching in on themselves, Julian relented his cause, and ran in front of her. Walking backwards he raised his hands in mock defeat, “Look, fine. Garak and I just don’t get along. Okay? We just don’t have anything in common.”

Mouth pressed in a hard line, Amsha countered, “I disagree.”

“It’s unhealthy to try to _force_ relationships,” Julian rationalized, talking over her. “You are deliberately making something out of nothing.”

Amsha slowed to a stop and looked at him, her eyes hard set. She shook her head and sighed, “You just don’t _want_ to like him.”

“It’s not that-”

“Yes, it most certainly is.” She interrupted, fierce as ever, walking again at a more reasonable pace, “And I get it! Richard’s gone, and now I have a new friend, who happens to be male-”

Julian’s nose scrunched up in disgust, “Mother!”

“-I just want you to know that-”

“Please stop talking.”

“-Garak and I are just friends!”

“I know that, now stop talking!”

Amsha raised her hand for peace, “Julian, I just want to make sure that everything is clear between us.”

“Why would you jump to that conclusion!” Julian asked, apparently embarrassed enough for the both of them.

“I just remember you thinking that as a possibility, and I want you to know that that hasn’t changed. Just because he’s a-”

“He’s much too young for you anyway!”

“-man that’s shown interest in me.”

“I wouldn’t even think-” He paused, then turned toward her in consideration, “Has he made a pass at you?”

She rolled her eyes, as if he were being the dramatic one here. “No one says ‘made a pass’ anymore Julian.”

“Yes or No mum.”

There was a pregnant pause, before Amsha shook her head, “Of course not. I was just saying that if he did, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“He’s not going to.”

“How do you know?” She asked looking a tad offended, “I’m attractive for my age, I still have my _feminine wiles_.”

Julian began to walk faster, “I’m leaving without you.”

“Julian please-”

He plugged his ears and closed his eyes, “I’m not listening!”

Amsha forcibly grabbed his arm away, and stopped him. “Stop being a child,” Then, after Julian huffed and dropped his hands, “I think you and Garak could be good friends.”

Julian gritted his teeth, and stuffed his fists down into his pockets, “I think that you can’t take a hint.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Oh boy…”

“You never go out, unless you're going to work or you're with me. I never see you with any friends or coworkers even. I don’t like you being so, well, depressed.”

Julian puffed his chest, wishing his mother could just mind her own business. “I wouldn’t say depressed-”

“You don’t even try anymore,” Amsah continued, stopping the both of them in their tracks. “You used to at least try to find friends. To the point of extreme annoyance to your classmates if I remember right. Why did you stop trying? What are you waiting for?” Her hand slid down to hold his, and she clicked her tongue, “You never used to wait.” He squared his shoulders, readying a response, “Don’t posture with me. Tell me what’s going on. I promise, I can take it.”

Julian’s shoulders swooped back down, wishing that he could breathe. Just for a moment. He was never allotted the luxury. He didn’t know why it hadn’t bothered him until now. “Nothings going on. I’ve just had a very long day, and I would like to go home. Sun’s almost down,” he nodded toward the horizon, “Spring may be soon, but the evenings are still quite chilly. Your joints are going to ache tomorrow if we don’t hurry back.”

Amsha gave him a hard look, then sighed and began to trek back, muttering, “Stubborn as a mule, just like-”

“-my father. Yes. I know, mum.”

She swatted his head.

* * *

 

That should’ve been the end of the conversation. Amsha, persistently asking and Julian persistently avoiding until one of them got tired along the way and gave up. It was Amsha’s turn to give up. They had an extensive and exhaustive system that Julian very carefully catalogued in his memory. The list was as follows: Julian gives up and allows mother to wash Kukalaka; Amsha stops trying to cut Julian’s hair; Julian decides to stop asking his mother when they can stop moving; Amsha let’s Julian have his tennis lessons; Etc etc etc (The break-up story between he and Palis is somewhere in there); and finally Amsha stops pestering Julian about Garak. Or, at least, that _should’ve been_ the list.

Therefore, when Garak was sitting in _Julian’s_ regular courtyard table during _Julian’s_ lunch break, the only thoughts that came to mind were, _That two-faced b****_. “Mr. Garak,” he greeted, put upon, advancing upon the table.

Garak turned, and caught his eye, confirming Julian’s suspicions. With a knowing smile, he sported a mock glare, “Doctor Bashir, you’re late.”

“Says the one who skipped his last three appointments. I don’t care if you’re embarrassed, or if you think you are all better, or if you are just avoiding me, the fact is that your body is still in a fragile state.” Julian quipped back easily, accepting his fate and taking the empty bench seat across from Garak.

Garak waved a hand dismissively, “Trust me when I say that if something were truly wrong, we would know by now.”

“We’re talking about your health not my Mum.”

“Believe it or not, I did not come here to argue about your obsession with my physique.” He said, checking the time.

Choosing not to counterpoint, Julian nodded to his watch, “Well, if you have somewhere to be, don’t let me keep you.”

“Oh no. Amsha is watching the store for me.” His eyes softened, and added seriously, hands twining around themselves, “If you want me to go I will. Amsha is just...very persuasive when she wants to be. She said you liked to eat your lunch in the cold outside all alone, because you were depressed and had no friends…” He paused and assured, “Her words, not mine.”

Julian snorted, forcing himself not to be embarrassed, “Nice, mum.”

“She asked me to give you the pleasure of my company, to see if our non-existent friendship might blossom in the span of,” he checked his watch, “now ten minutes.”

Tossing his lunch on the table ungracefully, Julian snorted, “Wouldn’t have taken you for a pushover.”

“I’m sure you know that’s not true.” Garak said, the first acknowledgment of anything between them, “Mardah accuses me of being stubbornly contradictory only until no one’s looking.” Parmak had recounted a very similar phenomena when explaining the inexplicable hold Tain had over Garak. Something he never understood.

Something Julian was only beginning to understand. “Perhaps pushover wasn’t the right word. I’m starting to think,” he began, sharply unpacking his lunch, “Sentiment isn’t the greatest weakness of all. It’s _your_ greatest weakness.”

Hands stilled over the tabletop between them, Garak snorted in derision to hide his surprise, “You’ve been in your own head too long, Doctor Bashir. You’re mother might’ve been right to send me your way.”

“Is that right?” Julian charged, Garak plainly defensive.

Crossing his arms, Garak assessed, eyes moving up and down Julian’s form, “Immediately on the offense without provocation, hair mussed, bags under your eyes from lack of sleep-” Julian’s hand pressed against his cheek self-consciously, “Would rather eat outside alone then eat alone in a room full of people I’m guessing, spends all of your time off here working on research, ignores both Leeta’s and Mardah’s transmissions…” Garak trailed off, mouth closing into a soft line, gaze met with Julian’s for the first time in a month. He sighed and crossed his arms, and allowing in way of an apology, “It seems, perhaps, you aren’t the only one who’s a tad defensive.”

Julian puffed out a breath, the cool air clouding immediately. Shaking his head he smiled lightly, not finding it within himself to be mad, this situation too eerily similar a rolling number of instances throughout his childhood. Amsha lipped tight about her own upbringing, but at any mention of Julian she could go on a mile a minute to anyone who’d listen, with or without provocation. It used to be the center of his embarrassment. Now he understood that telling Amsha anything equated to telling the world. “Mum’s been gossiping hasn’t she?”

Garak raised his eyes, lips pulled into something close to amusement, “Only while we’re at work,” he conceded, then added, “and the Salon.. and at the Cafe. I do my best to change the subject,” He defended weakly, folding his hands open with a helpless shrug, “but Amsha is a very determined woman.” He glanced up with a smile, recalling, “When she first moved in, mind you this was a few months ago, save for our first encounter, Amsha really kept to herself. I could hardly get her out of her room, let alone to the shop downstairs, then one day I wake up and she’s reorganized my bookshelf and breakfast is already on the table, and she talked non-stop the entire day. I couldn’t get one word in until the mid-afternoon!”

“It’s been weird,” Julian admitted, words coming out of their own accord, “Mum’s usually not so...verbal.”

“Really?” Garak’s asks, honestly intrigued. Julian wasn’t really sure how to explain a childhood filled with silences and shared looks. It didn’t seem right, or really make sense. To say that as she silently met his gaze across the room he always knew what she was thinking, but now that she said it all aloud and in the open, he had no idea what she really thought. That she confused him now more than ever. It made him wonder if he really knew her at all.

“I guess exile changes people.” He said with a shrug, his eyes raised to Garak’s.

Garak tilted his curiously to the side, then after a moment smiled softly, “That it does.”

A small chirp sounded across the table, and Garak snapped toward the small watch on his left wrist. “Twenty-three minutes,” he said, turning off the alarm. He stood up slowly, looking anywhere but Julian. “It seems that I can take my leave.”

Julian watched as Garak scooted out of the bench seat, tightening his scarf and turning toward the courtyard exit. As he began to step away Julian volunteered, “I always take my lunch here, at midday.” Garak stopped in his tracks and turned back, mouth open slightly, shoulders pulled up, “Unless it’s the weekend, then I’ll take it in the park across the street.” Garak blinked, “Might as well join me, get Mum off our backs.”

Garak stuffed his hands into his pockets, and shuffled his feet awkwardly. Across the courtyard, he met Julian’s gaze, his eyes crinkled in a way that was clearly pleased, “She can be very persistent can’t she?”

“Very,” Julian agreed.

“Then perhaps I’ll see you here, tomorrow, only if I’m in the neighborhood.”

“Well, of course.”

Garak smiled one last time, and left. Julian smiled to himself, feeling giddy for no good reason at all. His shift started in just a minute or so. He glanced down, at his uneaten unpacked lunch. “Shit.” _Well_ , Julian considered lightly, _I will just have to give Garak a very hard time about it tomorrow_.

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! But it's back! Yay! Don't worry, there's a bit of a time jump, but things will be explained! I'm not just going to ignore things. Anyway, thanks!


	15. Chapter 15

Amsha was fluttering around the kitchen when he returned home. Hands reaching across counters to stir saucepans. Wrinkled, shaking fingers delicately pressing numbers into older wound timers. The room was in a light filter of smoke and heat, the sink water running for, what Julian could ascertain,no reason whatsoever. Amsha fast walked toward their too tall cabinets, wet spatula in hand, then slipped. Julian darted forward and caught her, setting her back on her feet before she really noticed the dangerous spot she decided would be a good place to practice her falling technique. Right beside the hot stove and the corner of the kitchen table.

Her shoulders snapped up in surprise and she turned, “Oh! Julian! You frightened me.”

“I could say the same to you,” Julian said mildly, taking the spatula out of her hand. “Mum, you’re cooking.”

“Yes.” She answered unhelpfully, snatching back the utensil, little splatters of _something_ speckling onto Julian’s face.

“Oh.” A pause. “May I ask why?”

“I wanted to cook a real dinner for once.” She smiled cheerfully, then walked over to the saucepan. “I must say, I think I’m getting quite the hang of it.”

A fire burst on the saucepan behind her.

Julian sighed. Flames climbing quickly, he gently guided her away from the stove, ignoring her sharp cry, trying to find the cover before she decided to do something truly awful like put the fire out with _water_. He shut off the stove, and covered the flame with the large glass cover from a big pot that they never used. “I don’t suppose you were trying your hand at flambe were you?”

Amsha smiled sheepishly, “No. No I was not.”

“We’ll maybe it’d still be good,” Julian mused teasingly toward the black crisped vegetables under the cover, “maybe add some salt?”

Amsha smacked him lightly with her dirty oven mitt, “Oh, hush. You have to be nice to me today. I had a long day.” She surveyed her large mess of a kitchen and sat down, determined to ignore it. Slumping over on the table she she pressed her face into the palms of her hands.

“Oh no. Did you get asked out on another date? How many is this? Six? Seven?”

“Are you going to let me talk about my day or not?”

Julian sat, and crossed his arms, and in a tone that exemplified his long-suffered life, said, “All ears, Mum.”

“So” she begins, immediately leaning forward on the table, eyes sparkling and wide. The eyes of a woman who was about to _dish_. “The day is totally normal, very slow. Lunchtime comes and Garak asks me if I can watch the store. Says he has an appointment at the Salon. Now he has never left me in charge before, and I’m thinking, _Okay that’s fine, it never gets busy here_. So he leaves, and then suddenly, thirty people come in, as if they were just admiring the mannequins just _waiting_ for him to leave! And it stays like that for an hour, which is how long he was gone, by the way. It was ridiculous! The worst part, is that Garak just waltzes in, chipper as could be, and asks me how everything went!”

“And what did you tell him?”

“You want to know what I said? I said, _fine_. That’s it. Fine. And he just trots to the backroom with a little spring in his step that would annoy the prophets themselves.”  
“The prophets do distaste springy steps,” Julian replied, distracted. Thoughts still stuck on the words today and lunchtime. And, of course, _She asked me to give you the pleasure of my company, to see if our non-existent friendship might blossom in the span of...now ten minutes._ “Garak is full of it, Mum.”

Amsha’s shoulders dropped, and she smiled, mollified somewhat. “I’d appreciate the sentiment more if you weren’t so biased against him.”

Little did she know, _biased_ didn’t even cover half of it.

* * *

They were engaged in a staring contest of sorts. They sat on the cool bench facing each other, Julian forgoing his coat for a warm sweater, and Garak in a heavily insulated coat, scarf, and hat. Garak rested his cheek against his fist, blinking every few seconds in bemusement.

“I promise you,” he said after another moment of silence, “If you haven’t found what you’re looking for by now, I doubt you ever will.”

Julian exhaled through his nose and shifted his position, so that he mirrored Garak. Cheek pressed into his cold fist, Julian said, “I’m thinking.”

“I am still not sure whether that is more dangerous for you or me,” Garak replied with a small smile, as if he found himself being clever.

Julian only hummed in response.

Silence urging him into speech, Garak continued, “I think this may be one of the longest times I’ve held continuous eye-contact with someone. I mean, other than…” He stopped and bit his lip, then broke Julian’s gaze. “I believe we came here for lunch did we not?’

Julian refused to be embarrassed, even though his flushed face didn’t quite get the memo. “You lied yesterday,” he stated, deciding to go with his as-always go-to plan of- _fuck it._

Garak only glanced up to him from his lunch, eye-ridges raised in a, _you’ll have to be more specific than that, dear_.

“You had me sit at lunch with you under the guise of doing my mother a favor!”

“That doesn’t sound like me.” Garak replied with a smile, apparently finding humor in Julian’s indignation.

Julian tried to continue in his tirade, but Garak kept smiling, and all Julian could do was huff out a laugh. “You are incorrigible.”

“It seems I’m not the only one. I’m guessing that Amsha doesn’t know of our little lunch yesterday, or today for that matter?”

“Like I’d give her the satisfaction,” Julian said, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“Ah, well, at dinner tonight I’ll be sure to ignore you then.” Garak replied, nonchalant. Julian paused mid-chew. “It’s our show-night? Remember? I’m sure Amsha’s mentioned it.”

Thinking back, Julian could recall some sort of plans being made at tea, as he read over his proposal one more time before submission. There was Julian nodding, and humming, and Amsha smiling excitedly, and oh god show-night. Yes, that part was suddenly very vivid.

Dropping his sandwich back into his lap, Julian made a show of pressing the heel of his hand into his eyes, leaning back in his seat, “Leeta and Mardah are coming too, aren’t they?”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about them, I’m sure they’ll ignore you too.” Garak sipped from his thermos, eyes dancing with the familiar glisten of _what goes around comes around_.

“This is going to be awful,” Julian complained, hands sliding down under his eyes, to cover his mouth.

“I think it will be quite the contrary. I, for one, am in for an enjoyable evening, where really anything could happen.” Garak said in a way that really ground down on Julian’s wound nerves. He finished his tea, apparently unconcerned by the fact that Amsha still didn’t know about Garak’s deception, or that Julian could easily tell her. “Oh, come now, Doctor, put away that _woe is me_ attitude and focus on the bright side! You can’t be so naive as to think that I would let Amsha make this dinner date without a real purpose?”

Julian gave a frustrated groan, “Honestly, Garak, I never know what to think with you.”

Garak had the gall to smile, “I’m giving you a chance.”

“How benevolent of you,” he replied dryly.

“Why are you upset? You haven’t even heard what I’m doing for you...unless you’ve already guessed-”

“Please don’t make me guess.”

“Very well.” Garak leaned toward him, “You should tell your mother the truth about us, tonight. And apologise to Leeta and Mardah.”

Julian’s eyebrows shot up, and he crossed his arms. “And to think I didn’t get you anything after you went to all this trouble.”

“Don’t dismiss me right away,” Garak lost his playful smile, eyes turning more seriously toward him, “I think you’ll feel better. Lying doesn’t suit you.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Julian replied quietly, wondering why it was always Garak who figured him out so quickly.

“What I mean to say is that it doesn’t suit you like it suits me.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means that you are a good person and you don’t like to lie. Stop falling back on old habits that you don’t need anymore. Take it from someone who knows.”

“Frankly, Mr. Garak,” Julian began, automatically defensive, “you are not in the position to be telling me to do anything. Or giving me any advice!”

“Frankly, Doctor Bashir, I-don’t-care,” Garak argued. “Excuse me for wanting you to avoid the same mistakes that I made when I was younger.”

There was a pregnant pause, and Julian sighed, uncrossing his arms. “How am I supposed to tell her?” He asked aloud. In a few short moments now convinced that Garak was right, that this is what he was supposed to do. “After all this time?”

“Don’t let your guilt from not doing something earlier stop you from doing it now.” Garak folded his hands over his lap, “I’ve learned many lessons from my exile. Most of which I could only learn the hard way. My advice is that when you tell her, tell her as if she was patiently waiting for you to tell the truth. I promise, it will make it much easier to get the words out.”

Julian sighed and started to pack up his once again mostly uneaten lunch. “My shift starts soon. I have to go.”

Garak sighed, as if he expected more out of Julian. “Very well.” Taking his thermos, he stood up. “Will you, at the very least, think about what I’ve said?”

“I don’t know.” Clearing up the last of his things, he continued, “I really have to go, I’ll see you tonight.” He turned to leave.

“Doctor!” Garak called out after him. Julian started to walk. “Julian!” Julian sighed and turned back.

“Look,” Julian began when he was within a sensible distance, “Obviously I’m going to tell her, okay? Now, can I go?”

Garak smiled, eyes crinkled with little crows feet that made him look genuinely pleased. He held up his ungloved hand in the same way he often did whenever he exchanged goodbyes with Amsha. Julian eyed the hand critically. “Isn’t that the Cardassian equivalent of a kiss on the cheek?”

Garak looked to his hand, then back to Julian, eye ridges raised in a way that indisputably signified that he was lying, “What? No, I have no idea where you could've heard such a thing. This, I believe, is the Terran equivalent to perhaps a friendly wave goodbye? A handshake amongst acquaintances?”

“I must’ve heard wrong.” Julian said lightly, pressing his hand to Garak’s.

“It’s quite alright, my dear. I’m just happy I could help.”

They stayed like that for another moment, cold hands pressed together, Julian resisting the inappropriate urge to lace their fingers. “I really do have to go.” He said, trying to take the regret out of his voice.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yes you will.” Julian dropped his hand, and stuffed it into his pocket. With a mock, two-fingered salute, he took his leave.

“And Doctor?”

Julian turned back once last time.

Garak smiled, and gave a small wave, “Good luck.”

Yeah, he was gonna need it.

* * *

In the silence, Amsha brushed her hair, using her free hand to pull at the tangled pieces with practiced ease. Using the end of the round brush, she attempted to curl the ends into something passably elegant. Something to match the lightly applied makeup that she almost never wore. It didn’t quite match her attire, as she opted to wear something more on the comfortable side. Made by Garak’s own hand, her tunic was soft to the touch, sitting comfortably over her shoulders and stretching evenly across her back, something that she complained most often about.

Julian watched her from the bathroom doorway. Leaning against its wooden frame, he crossed his arms, face set in concentration. Julian knew that, theoretically speaking, he could tell Amsha anything. As she so liked to remind him at the most inappropriate moments. Examples being like when they finally arrived at the register to have their order taken, or literally every single time he was about to leave the house in a haste because he was late, again, and where was he going with this?

Right.

Basically, Amsha wouldn’t be mad, couldn’t be mad. Because, although he _technically_ lied, he lied to cover Garak’s perfectly shaped arse, and if she was going to be mad at anyone, it should be Garak.

Amsha audibly sighed at her reflection. “I can’t be that interesting.”

Julian perked, shoulders tensing quickly. “What?”

Dropping her brush on the bathroom sink, his mother turned, forehead lined with dismay. “You’ve been watching me brush my hair for the past twenty minutes,” she explained slowly. “What do you want?”

“Nothing- Sorry,” he apologized defensively, then a bit more lax, “-sorry, I’m just--thinking.”

“It’s fine, it’s just...do you have to watch me when you think?”

“No.” He replied, knowing full well he was being both unhelpful and a bit annoying.

Amsha glared at him for a moment, mouth twisted in a grimace. She eyed at the doorway, weighing the consequences of closing the door on him. Crossing the room, she came up to him and pushed him lightly on his chest, moving him out of the way. Julian took a couple paces back. Amsha reached back and took the door handle, and closed the door behind her as she walked past him. “Do you want some tea?” She called back. He followed her without answering. In the kitchen Amsha regarded him as she pulled two mugs from the cabinet, her eyes turned from irked to concerned. “You’ve been quiet tonight. Was work okay?”

He sat at the kitchen table, watching her put the kettle on. _Just force the words out,_ he told himself. Even though it should be _Garak_ telling her, because it was Garak’s fault that he lied in the first place. Why couldn’t Garak just tell her himself? Julian shook his head at himself, wondering how Garak so easily talked him into this.

“Julian, you know you can tell me anything.” Amsha said outloud, in a tone so familiar that he could almost see their old white chipped cabinets behind her, painted by Amsha’s favorite sister. It was the last apartment she helped them move into.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking at the clock on the far kitchen wall, recognizing that Garak and the girls would be arriving at any moment. Inconvenient. “I spoke with Garak yesterday,” Julian began, figuring if it had to start somewhere, it might as well start with him.

“You spoke to Garak? When? What for?” Amsha interrogated, suddenly very interested.

“At lunch. He and I, well, I don’t want to say we’re friends, necessarily. But, he gave me some advice, and I think he’s right. He wanted me to tell you that-” Julian paused, and adjusted, “I wanted to tell you that I lied to you when I said that Garak found me last month. The truth is that I came here the moment the Federation exiled me. I came here and I tried to look for you. I found Leeta and Mardah and Garak and I begged him to help me find you. And at first he didn’t, but then he did, or- or, I thought he did.” He paused, overwhelmed at hearing his own stupidity said aloud “But it turned out that you were just here, the whole time. And I felt like such an idiot...but that’s not the point. The point is that I lied to you, when I said that Garak found me. And I don’t know how this is going to affect you and Garak, but he said that I ought to be honest with you. So, this is me being honest with you.”

“Oh.” That’s all she said. Oh. Amsha leaned her back against the counter, hands rung underneath it’s edge, looking anywhere but him.

“Yeah,” He agreed, uncertain.

“Garak told you to tell me this?” She clarified, crossing her arms, still not meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, he did. Look, I don’t want to defend him or anything, but I don’t think you should be too mad at him. I mean, it’s Garak. If anything it’s our fault for trusting him.”

“Julian stop-” Amsha commanded softly, but he kept talking over her.

“I know he’s a bit of a cock but, I don’t hate him. Not anymore.”

“Julian, please-”

“He can’t be all bad! He wanted you to know the truth, didn’t he?”

“Julian!” Amsha said in exasperation, “I’m not mad! I promise, I’m not mad at all. Or surprised really.”

“Oh.” Julian said, a little dumbfounded. “Okay.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, “You are taking this surprisingly well.”

“Yes well…” Amsha rung her hands together and sighed. “I don’t want you to hate me.” She replied finally, which was unexpected.

“And why would I hate you?”

Amsha sighed and shook her head, hair falling into her face, mouth pursed into a firm line. Then she met his eyes, gaze firmly set in a way it so rarely was. “Because he doesn’t care about whether you’re honest with me or not! This” she waved a hand between them, “is his convoluted way of telling _me_ to be honest with _you_.” The kettle whistled, and Amsha removed the heat, and poured the hot water into their mugs. “Garak told me that you had found him that morning I visited him in the hospital,” Amsha confessed matter-of-factly, “He told he how long you had been here. And he told me that if _I_ had said something sooner, if I had just asked him to look for you, he would have said something when you approached him.”

This should’ve been shocking, but it wasn’t really. It actually made a lot of sense now that she said it. It almost seemed like he knew this already, and was just waiting for her to admit it.

Amsha continued, without missing a beat, “He looked at me and said that you were doing everything you could just to make sure I was okay and I couldn’t even bother to ask about you. And I tried to tell him,” she defended, “I tried to tell him that I didn’t even think you wanted anything to do with me! That I ruined your life! And he said I was just making excuses so I wouldn’t have to face what I did to you.” She pursed her lips, before quietly continuing, “Right now I’m wondering if he was right.”

There was a knock at the door, and they both stilled. After a moment of the two deciding whether to answer it, Julian stood up. “I’ll get it.”

“Julian-”

“Mum.” He stopped her. “Let’s leave it at this tonight. We can talk more tomorrow. But, right now it’s your show night.”

“Alright.” She agreed, unsure, but willing.

With a nod, he went into the other room and opened the door. Leeta and Mardah stood there, hand in hand, impatience wearing on their shoulders.

“Well look who it is.” Mardah said, a small smile at the corner of her lips, her tone teasing.

“Too good for us, but willing to slum it with Garak from what I hear,” Leeta replied, fluttering her eyes.

Julian exhaled a short laugh, and he suddenly ached with how much he missed them. _No more excuses._ “About that…” He glanced back into the house, then joined them outside. The two shuffled backward as he closed the door behind him. “I have to apologize to both of you.”

“It’s about time,” Mardah mumbled beneath her breath. Leeta elbowed her, but her eyes twinkled in agreement.

“I was out of line, and I’m sorry. I’m not expecting you to forgive-” They both jumped forward and engulfed him in a tight hug, crushing his chest with their tiny hands. “Or you could just crush my lungs, that would be fine too.” Quickly, they stepped back in unison. He coughed, and held up a hand, “The two of you are very strong.”

“We’ve been working out,” Leeta supplied, sharing a secretive smile with Mardah.

Julian rolled his eyes, not even going to attempt deciphering their inside language. “Yes, well...we’re okay then?”

Leeta blinked at him, “We’ve been okay.”

Maradah snorted through her nose, “If we weren’t okay, you would know.”

Julian grinned at the both of them, “Have I ever told you how brilliant you both are?”

“May have come up,” Madah said with a shrug, “Doesn’t hurt to hear it again.”

“Well, you are, both of you- Absolute stars.” A timer beeped in the background, Amsha swearing lightly, the door apparently very thin. “Mum’s inside. Getting everything started I assume, if you want to join her-” He jabbed a thumb toward the door.

“You’re not staying?” Mardah asked, looking a bit put-down.

“I need some of fresh air.” He explained, jacketless, goosebumps running up his arms. “Might just sit out here for a bit.” Mardah nodded, eyes scanning him up and down.

Leeta tugged at Mardah’s hand, head jerking toward the door, “I’m cold. Let’s go inside.”

Mardah smiled, swiftly punching Julian’s bicep. They shuffled through the doorway, and Mardah whispered lowly, so that only he would hear, “I’ll tell her Garak’s running late.”

The door gave a soft click as Julian was left alone with the breeze, the sky’s horizon no longer a dusty pink, distant stars already making an appearance. His transmitter chirped. Not in the mood, he quickly silenced it. Stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, he gingerly walked barefoot over to the curb and sat on it’s edge. It was cold, the breeze circling around bitter, Julian’s toes flexing in the dirt trying to gain some semblance of warmth in his joints.

Fuck her.

If his father were here, this wouldn’t have happened. Richard would have found him right away- Richard wouldn’t have wasted a moment. Richard didn’t wallow in _self-pity_. But that didn’t change anything, did it?

He could live with this. He decided in that moment, where everything seemed to be a little too much, he could live with this. Because even now, he could only hold his mum in numb regard. Anger that usually so quickly surfaced refused to bubble up, couldn’t even simmer into something tangible.

A hand dropped on his shoulder and he startled, jumping into the grass with an unmanly shriek. “Holy-fuck!” Seeing the perpetrator his shoulders sagged, his hand pressed against his chest. “Dammit Garak!”

Garak held up his hands in apology. “My mistake. I thought you saw me,” he defended, eyes gleaming in satisfaction.

Julian waved a hand, well aware that Garak enjoyed surprising Julian in the most childish and undignified ways. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

A wind gusted through and Garak crossed his arms against the chill. “You should be inside. It’s quite cold out tonight.” He studied Julian’s shivering frame. “You aren’t even wearing a jacket.”

“I’m not wearing a jack-what-,” Julian looked down at himself. “God, I didn’t even notice.” He continued, imitating an astonished voice.

“Very well, there is no need for that tone.” Garak tutted. Undoing the last button on his coat, Garak sat down, taking Julian’s previous spot on the curb. “If I was Amsha, I wouldn’t have let you out here in _that_.”

Julian could barely feel the weight of his tank top against the chilly air, his skin stretched tight, pulling together for warmth. “Yes, well- I came out here to avoid her advice, thank you very much.”

Garak peered up at him, perking up from his seat, “You spoke with her?”

Julian shrugged, crossing his arms, his hands digging into his sides for warmth. After a moment of deliberation he joined Garak, ungracefully falling beside him so that their sides brushed. As he hugged his knees, Julian tried not to lean into the contact. Feeling the weight of his own silence, Julian pointed toward the sky, “See that bright star?”

Garak tried to follow his hand, squinting up at the sky, “I see a bright something. You’re speaking of the one in the middle of the Five Brothers Constellation?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. The one along that line of stars.” Julian pointed again, hand circling around the small distant part in the sky.

“The space station?”

“Yeah. Deep Space Nine.” The words felt strange to his ears, although a familiar weight to his tongue. Could someone miss something that was never theirs?

“It looks quite striking from here.” Garak said impartially, gaze already locked onto Julian’s features.

“That’s where I was going to be stationed.” Feeling Garak’s eyes, Julian kept his stare firmly onto the sky, “After I passed my exams. That’s where I wanted to go. At the edge of nowhere, saving lives in the wilderness.”

Garak huffed out a small laugh beside him, “A federation hero amongst the natives?”

“Something like.” He pauses, “I can’t believe I actually thought that. God, I was young back then.”

“Time makes fools of us all.” Garak said, voice distant, eyes once again tacked along the brilliant shine of Deep Space Nine.

“You too?” Julian asked, studying Garak’s features intensely. The way his mouth parted open just slightly, cheeks a dusty crimson against the cool air. His hair pulled half up, little strands falling down, framing the space beside his ear.

“Contrary to what Mardah might’ve told you,” Garak began, voice lining with a tad of annoyance, “I was not born a hundred.”

Julian broke out into an unexpected grin, “I think out of all of us, Mardah would know. She has an eye for these sorts of things.”

“An eye for elderly infants?”

“An eye for you.” He corrected with a laugh, elbowing Garak in his side. “And for me too, I think. She sees a lot more than she says.”

“With that we are in agreement, my dear.”

“I also wanted to say thank you.” He said, before he could get lost in Garak’s words, as he so often did. “For what you said- to Mum.” He clicked his tongue, “You didn’t have to-”

“I believe I did, _have to_ , that is. Amsha has become a dear friend of mine. She shouldn’t keep things like this bottled up.” He stood, smoothing down his coat, and Julian followed him.

“Regardless of the reason, truly, thank you.”

With an aggravated noise, Garak placed a hand on Julian’s bicep, “The reason is because you deserve better, Julian.”

Garak’s hand was unexpectedly warm, fingers curling around his arm with an intoxicating presumption. A bit lightheaded, Julian challenged, “That’s really the reason?”

With a small pause, Garak tilted his head, a small smile crinkling across his cheeks, “I’d also like to think that we’ve become friendly-”

“Well, I wouldn’t call us friends,” Julian teased immediately, Garak’s hand trailing down Julian’s arm to let go, “but...friendly…” The hand stopped. “I suppose that’s a good way to put it.”

The door swung open and they startled apart, the air instantly biting against Julian’s bare skin. Leeta stood in the foyer, hand still wrapped around door’s handle, words already trailing out before she could stop them, “Show’s star...ting.” Her eyes darted between them. Quickly deciding not to feel any sort of awkwardness whatsoever-

Because there was no reason to feel awkward, Julian reminded himself-

-Leeta smiled at the both of them. “If you guys want a good seat, you’d better hurry.”

Garak turned toward him, meeting his gaze with a familiar fondness. _This would be easy_ , Julian thought. Garak and Julian, sides pressed together on the floor, because there was no space left. Hands lingering a moment longer than necessary as they both reached for the biscuits his mum made. Warm breath against his ear through Garak’s continued commentary of how exactly everyone was going about this _all wrong_.

His comm unit chirped again, and fuck. He really had to take this. “I’d love to stay,” Julian began, walking over and reaching around Leeta for his Jacket, hung on a peg just inside the doorway. He then bent forward, retrieving his shoes. “But Sathe really needs me to cover him tonight.” Slipping on his Jacket and footwear, he avoided Garak’s eye, smiling apologetically toward Leeta. “I promised I would.” With a short wave, he jogged off into the grass toward the sidewalk, shouting back, “Leave some of Mum’s biscuits for me!”

He didn’t wait to see them go inside, already retreating down a side road, in the opposite direction of the hospital. Clicking his comm unit with a sigh, he said, “Are you still there?”

There was a moment of silence and shuffling on the other end, and then an answer, “Yes. The usual place?”

“Already on my way.” Jogging across the empty street, he could already see her on the farthest park bench, the tree’s around her still tricked by the spring’s winter chill.

As he came up, he knew that she knew that he was already there. Just the way that she knew that he knew that she knew that he was already there. “Agent Ranya.” He greeted.

Bypassing introductions, she turned toward him from her seat, “There’s been a development.”

That was when Julian regretted ever making that call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! School's started so hopefully my need for procrastination will get me to get back on the writing wagon. Thanks for bearing with me!


	16. Chapter 16

Agent Ranya patted the seat beside her, and Julian took it, deliberately making a show of it.  She made no indication of bother, but Julian knew her enough to know that she liked quick efficiency with their meetings. Still, six weeks of working alongside her and she still proclaimed equal partnership, only at her own convenience, like when Julian was annoyed or ready to end their partnership altogether.  Which albeit, was a lot.

She crossed her legs, handing her padd over to him from her jacket in a swift movement.  “He’s contacted someone.”  Agent Ranya said simply, studying him from her side of the bench.  

With a look, he took the padd, skimming it’s contents quickly.  “Who’s Skrain Dukat?” He said, stopping at a blurred picture of a very miffed looking Cardassian, nose scrunched in disgust or bemusement Julian couldn’t say.

“An ally, I’m assuming. Apparently they’ve had plenty of run-ins across the years.  Can’t be a coincidence.”

“Suppose not.”  He agreed, reading the intel more carefully.  “So- what?  It just says here that he’s coming into Bajoran space. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why would Dukat come into Bajoran space unless Garak’s contacted him! He must be planning something, they must be meeting somewhere for…” She trialed off, hands gesturing uselessly in front of her.

“For?”

Agent Ranya sighed irritably, “I don’t know. I can only think that this may have something to do with Enabran Tain.”   

Julian blinked, fighting the urge to cross his arms, “I’m assuming there is more than just speculation to this.”  

“It’s not speculation,” she defended, sounding incredibly young. “Dukat and Tain may not be allies, but they are not enemies either. If Garak contacted Dukat, he must want _something_ from Tain. Perhaps just a way back into his good graces.”  

“You know why Garak’s here?”

“I know enough.” She pauses, and smiles at Julian, a small gesture that could have gone unnoticed, except for the fact that her eyes narrowed with the movement. Julian watched her features morph to something still incredibly young, but wiser somehow. More experienced. Agent Ranya was no agent at all, Julian could see now- if Ranya was her real name. Of course he knew she was lying, but before it seemed like a funny anecdote rather than a sinister development. “I’ll tell you why, if you find out why he and Dukat are meeting.”  She wasn’t sinister.

She was desperate.  

Julian could work this to his advantage. This wasn’t about Tain, this was about Garak. After all, wasn’t everything?

“You didn’t do any work!”  Julian clicked the padd off, “You’re just making outlandish speculations.  Maybe Dukat is going on vacation? Ever thought of that? Bajoran foliage is nice this time of year, especially up the coast.”  

“Dukat doesn’t do vacations-”

“What are you, his best friend all of a sudden? His secretary?”  She rolled her eyes, and Julian clicked his tongue. _Make her think this is done._ “Yeah, thought not. Look, you seem very sure of yourself in your everlasting fight for truth and justice and all that.  But, I’m not going to help you if all you can bring to the table is your shoddy detective work, yeah?  You can’t just keep calling me with your half assed theories, hailing them as dastardly gospel.  Next time you think about calling me,” Julian stood, handing the padd back to her loftily, “Have something real.  Or better yet?  Just don’t.”  

Julian began to walk away, and he could hear her stand behind him, “Doctor Bashir.”  This time he didn’t stop walking, even as she called out, “You’re making a mistake!”

He had made a lot of mistakes.  This was not one of them.  Not even close.  

Feeling a bit agitated, and a bit on edge, he did in fact go to the hospital, to catch up on his non commissioned research that Administer Cere granted, on the strict condition to keep her allowance mum for the time being.

That’s where he found himself, at two o’clock in the morning, flipping through images one by one, barely cataloguing them. _Click...click...click._ His mind still raced, but he did his best to ignore it. _Click...click...click..._ Julian’s brain refused to reset. That was also why, when his comm unit chirped from the pocket of his tank, his knees nearly flipped the desk table in alarm. “Mother-fuck-” Rubbing his knee, he tapped his hand against his pocket, “Bashir here.” The other end didn’t speak.  “Bashir…?” Julian greeted again.  

“Doctor Bashir, how lovely it is to hear your voice,”The comm line said in return, a warmth there in the tone.

Julian smiled, hand running through his hair, fixing it, “Doctor Parmak, didn’t expect to hear from you so late. Trouble sleeping?”

There was another pause on the other line, before Parmak replied slowly-a bit unsure, “Something like that. I was thinking about you.”

“Were you?” Julian asked, lowering his voice.

“Yes. About the conversation we had. About my favor.” Parmak replied reasonably, as if his word choice wasn’t misleading at all.

“Oh yeah, right.” Julian agreed, the pitch of his tone rising, feeling a bit of shame as it did so, Garak’s amused but disapproving face coming to mind very quickly.

“I don’t like to be the kind of person to rush things. But I wondered if you found it yet.”

Julian bit his lip, and replied stiffly, “Not yet.”

“Yes, I thought not. You haven’t spent much time looking for it, I imagine.”

“I’m working on it.” He defended, even though Parmak was right on the latinum there.  

Parmak hummed. “I’m only thinking that if Garak were to use it, it would be now.”

Julian perked in his seat, sitting up, much more interested, “Why now?”

“It’s the third year anniversary of his exile. I’m worried it might...bring up emotions for him. I don’t like to be the one to rush things, but I feel that I must insist you find it soon. And Doctor Bashir? I know I told you to send it to me, but don’t bother. I want you to destroy it. As soon as you find it.”

Julian swallowed, and gave a succinct nod, “I understand.”

“Good. Thank you. This takes a great weight off my shoulders.”

“Yeah, no, it’s no problem. I’m happy to help you, in _any_ way I can,” Julian said with an immediate wince.  He wasn’t trying to flirt with him, it just happened goddammit.  

Parmak didn’t answer right away, but Julian could imagine him trying to stifle his laughter, “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Doctor.”

“Call me Julian,” he said, recognizing at once that Parmak had ended the line, and Julian was an idiot.

* * *

A few days later, Julian sighed at the padd in his hand, shifted toward him so that, to anyone else, it would look like a blank screen. _Have you found it yet?_ Parmak’s message happily bounced against its borders in a mocking sort of way,

“Okay, you’re gonna have to go back,” Julian replied, only half listening to Garak. “Where exactly do you think that I’m going?”  

Garak pushed his lukewarm tea to the side, leaning excitedly over the small kitchen table, eyes quickly sweeping across the room to confirm that they were A: indeed alone, and that B: Amsha’s wandering ears were not eavesdropping from her spot on the sofa just a room over. “You are coming with me to one of the most exclusive events of the season.”  

Julian looked back at him incredulously, wondering if perhaps he should have called his Mum into the kitchen, instead of leaving her to her own devices in the family room. “That’s what I was afraid you said.”  Leaning back into his seat, Julian clicked the padd off.  “And when are you going to this-what did you call it- event?”  

“In three days, _we_ are attending a gala at one of Bajor’s most elegant tea gardens. Just up the coast, north of Meridian transport, I managed to get us both an invitation to the most exclusive event this planet has ever seen!  Stop asking questions and start thanking me.”

Julian sighed. “Okay.  Well, the thing is that I’m busy in three days.”

“That is fascinating, because I did check with Amsha before I made the arrangements and she told me that you were free.”  

“Ah, yeah, well," Julian scratched the back of his head, avoiding Garak’s eye, "she doesn’t really know my work schedule all too well-”

“Which is why I also confirmed your work schedule with your direct supervisor and Administrator Cere Ida.  You, my dear, are free.” Garak smiled a small glint in his eye that communicated exactly why Julian wasn’t entirely sure this was a good idea.

“Alright, well I can’t seem to disprove that, or come up with a different reason as to why I’m busy at the moment…”  

“Excellent!”  Garak clapped his hands together, which should have looked ridiculous, but on Garak the motion was downright predatory.  “Tonight you can come to mine to try on the suit I made you. Day of, I’ll arrive here around nineteen hundred hours?  We will have to take a shuttle, then a transport from the Meridian.  I concede that it will be a bit of a trip, but very worth it.”  

“You made me a suit?”

Ignoring him completely, Garak carried on, “And please remember to wear your black shoes, with wingtips. I refuse to let your dreadful collection of footwear ruin my hard-worked creations.”  

“When did you see those?” Julian interrogated, turning around in his seat to make sure his door was still closed across the hall.  “Have you been snooping in my room?”  

“Snooping is undignified.”  Garak sniffed and crossed his arms, haughtily clarifying, “I merely observe.”  

Julian rolled his eyes, “Yes, well, if I ever catch you observing in my room, you might not get an invitation back in.”

Garak hesitated, then smiled, eyes gleaming in satisfaction, “Is that your way of inviting me back to your place?”  Julian bit his tongue, fighting the urge to smile.  Garak had no such qualms, lips only stretching wider, his eyes fluttering with acute interest, leaning forward in a way that could only say, _Caution doesn’t suit you, my dear.  In fact, let’s throw it out altogether._

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.  But-yes, fine.  I’ll go with you to this, party, or whatever it is.  God knows I haven’t been out in forever.  Maybe this will be good for me.   _Maybe-_ ”  Julian reiterated, feeling that this needed clarification.  “Just maybe.  Don’t start getting any ideas or anything.  Usually I’m very busy with work, and well...work.”  

“Me?  Getting ideas?  Believe me, I know better than to _get ideas_.”   

“Of course you do.”  Julian agreed, in the same tone that signified that Garak was full of shite.

“I couldn’t help but overhear-”  Amsha began, edging into the doorway.  

Garak snapped toward Julian. _How did she-?_

Julian shook his head minutely, meeting Garak’s questioning stare with a knowing glint in his eye.   _She just does.  Don’t ask me how._

“-you two are going to a party?”  

Garak stilled across from him. “From what Garak tells me, it’s much more than just a _party,_ mum _._ Come on, _Garak,”_ he goaded, cheeks dimpling as Garak shot him a glare from across the table, “tell her.  What did you call it?  The most exclusive event this planet has ever seen?”  

Amsha beamed, bouncing over to them.  Her shoulders bobbed in an excited shimmy as she took a seat at the head of the table.    

“I wouldn’t have said something so gauche.”  Garak assured Amsha, repeating, “I wouldn’t have.  It would say it’s more a get together amongst colleagues.  Nothing as spectacular as your son is describing.  Believe me, there are many things I would rather do with my time, but alas, I thought it would be nice for our young doctor to meet some of his well traveled peers.”   His gaze flashed toward Julian.  A warning.   _Don’t you dare contradict me._

Amsha’s shoulders slumped a bit, disappointed. “So no party, then?”

Julian leaned back and drummed his fingers on the table.  Resigned he answered, “At least not the kind where you have fun.  Probably a lot of shop talk, mum, nothing to write home about.”  

“Oh.”  She said, slowly skulking out of her seat, no longer interested in the slightest.  Pushing in her chair she gave one last look to the both of them, “You would tell me if there was a party, wouldn’t you?”  

Julian and Garak exchanged a quick look before simultaneously confirming, “Of course we would.”  

She nodded mildly, “Well alright.  I think I might head to the store for a bit, pick a couple things up. Anything I can get for either you boys?”  

“None for me, mum.”  

Garak only shook his head.  

“Alright.  Be back soon, then.”  

Julian waited for the door to click shut.  “So, is there any particular reason as to why we just lied to my mum?- And practicing your lying technique is not a good reason, Garak.”  Garak snorted through his nose, a mix between _obviously_ and _that is a good reason._ Neither were all that convincing to Julian, who recently learned that, when it came to Garak, one had to pry.  “You know, mum would love to go to a party with you.  Love!  I don’t think she’s been to in a party in, god, probably ten years.”  Unless Christmas at Aunt Aadhira’s counted for anything, which in Julian’s mind, it didn’t.  

“Do you think Amsha is in love with me?”  

“No. What- No- Why would you say something like that?”  

“Perhaps I’m looking into things too much-”

“She’s happily married, Garak.”  Garak gave him a look, “Okay, well maybe not happily.  But she’s not really the type to go around, breaking rule-oh my god, yes she is- Has she come onto you?”  

“Not exactly.”  He said, which didn’t really answer anything at all.  “I’m just beginning to wonder if she’s grown jealous of you.”  

“Jealous?”  Julian repeated back cautiously.  He and Garak did share a certain _something._  A flirtation or a connection. Not something that someone would be jealous of surely. He and Garak were, well, Julian wouldn’t call them _friends_ … but they had a certain familiarity or whatever one called, _We would sleep together if given the chance…_

Julian would sleep with Garak if given the chance.

Oh god, Julian would _sleep_ with _Garak,_ if Garak was interested. He definitely would. Insofar, Julian’s been pretty receptive to Garak’s teasing coquetry, but putting their back and forth banter into such, blatant terms...it was- Julian bit his lip, watching Garak as he tracked the movement. Garak always held himself at a distance, but Julian could easily imagine Garak’s eyes turning dark, standing up and pulling Julian along with him by sharp glare alone- Garak pushing Julian against the counter in declaration- _He takes what he wants_ \- And Julian’s hands, one cupping the curve of Garak’s ass, the other running through and messing up Garak’s hair because he could, whispering, _I’m not going to be satisfied with just a one-off. You know what you’re getting yourself into?_

“Yes.” Garak said firmly. “So what do you think?”

Julian had to blink at him a couple times, wondering if that was an invitation to crawl across the table and show Garak exactly what he was agreeing to. It only took Garak’s confused look, as Julian licked his lips, for him to realize that Garak wasn’t agreeing, but asking. “Yes?”

“Yes she’s jealous?”

“...I mean no.”  

Garak blinked and shook his head at him, “You are being _very_ helpful.”

“I’m sorry.” Julian apologized, eyes affixed to the ridge lining the angle of Garak’s jaw- the pulped curve of Garak’s lips as they opened slightly. “I think you’re just making something out of nothing! Mum’s...y’know, _Mum_.  I don’t remember her having any friends when I was growing up. I mean, for all that she wanted us to get- on I don’t think she thought that included…”

“Included what?”

“Sharing.”  He said simply.  “I have four Aunts, but I’ve barely seen them. The way I see it, either she’s forgotten how to share, or she’s just tired of it.  Can’t say I blame her. If you were my friend, I wouldn’t want to share you either.”

Garak swallowed, shifting in his seat, “So- She’s not in love with me, then?”  

“I would say no.”  

“Good.”

“So does that mean you’re going to invite her to the party instead? Or is it going to be the three of us?” He asked, keeping the disappointment out of his tone.

"I was actually hoping to enjoy your company.  Alone.”  

“In a room full of people,”  Julian added unhelpfully, not smiling. He was not going to smile.

“Thank you Doctor, I do see the irony.  If you would, let’s keep this between us. I don’t want Amsha thinking that I’m, how would she put it?  Picking favorites.”

Julian cocked his head to the side. Crossing his arms and leaning forward he asked, “Is that what you’re doing?  Picking favorites?”

“I know you may think that I love to hear the sound of my own voice, but working as a tailor has taught me a thing or two.  Mostly, when to keep my mouth shut.”  

Julian screwed his mouth thoughtfully.  “Working as a tailor taught you that?”

“Amongst other things.”

Julian couldn’t help but add, “Like espionage, blackmail, sneaking up on people all the time for no good reason other than to give them a fright.”

“Do not blame me for your lack of attention to your own surroundings. I don’t _want_ to scare you,” Garak said, looking down at his tea as if he truly was remorseful- the lying sod, “but what am I to do when the opportunity so easily presents itself?”

“A normal person would tap my shoulder and say, _Julian, I’m right behind you- I didn’t want to scare you._ ”

“Not with you.  Perhaps, with someone less…”  he pauses for  a moment, considering, “I don’t think anyone would take pleasure from startling someone like Leeta or Amsha.  But you?  My dear Doctor, you have that indiscernible quality that makes one want to tease.”  

 _You just want to flirt with me,_ Julian thought. “Indiscernible quality, huh?”

“This is only conjecture, but I think it might be the large sign on your back reading _I’m very aggravating, please give me a reason to be._ Not that it’s my reason,” Garak assured him blithely.  “I just enjoy seeing you irrevocably flustered.”  

Julian had the urge to kick him from under the table, but stopped himself, unsure if, once given the opportunity, he would be able to pull his foot away.  “So- the party-”

“Yes-The party.”

“You didn’t make us matching suits did you?”  

Garak only smiled, then said, “I’ll admit that the thought crossed my mind.”  

“Garak-”

“They don’t _miss_ match.”  

Julian regarded him for a moment, then sighed, “I suppose I can live with that.”  

Garak stood up, “So, I’ll be seeing you tonight?”  

The padd screen lit dimly, another message from Parmak, _Tell me once you have it._

“It’s a date” Julian replied.  

_A date, with Garak, which will live in infamy._

Julian was so fucked.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Julian stood at the door, shifting his weight as he crossed his arms against the chill. The sidewalks were mostly empty, the evening air sending people home and to their living rooms to snuggle under the blankets and watch the shallow reality programs his mum swore by. _Garak’s Clothiers’_ sign was flipped closed, although the lights still glimmered brightly on the inside, the light almost warm against Julian’s reddening face, especially against the spring’s still early dusk.

Pressing his lips together, Julian bravely shot out his hand again, and knocked at Garak’s front door, still ruddy nervous and (un)bravely thinking that maybe Garak just forgot, and he could still make it home in time for the late night local program that was more informational than entertainment. Julian cupped his hands around his eyes as he peered into the shop, his hands shaking as they bumped against the cool glass. Luminous light against redwood floors and racks of clothing items- Mannequins without heads dressed according to what kind of fashion, Julian couldn’t say. And god, there was a surprising amount of pink. He could hear his mother’s distraught voice now, _It isn’t bloody pink, it’s magenta._ “Magenta.” Julian muttered unkindly under his breath, the glass fogging up in front of him.

“What’s Magenta?” A hand landed on Julian’s shoulder and he yelped. Twirling around with his hand over his chest, he huffed out several large breaths of the cool air, causing a coughing fit, which only served to make his chest tighter. The sweat that chose to pool on his forehead sent shivers down his spine as he blinked owlishly at, of course-

“Garak.”

Garak smiled at him blandly, his lips in a flat line as he stood in the shadows of the sidewalk...although there was a wicked tick in his eye that made Julian think he purposely came late, and this was all according to plan. Then his eyes uplifted in faux horror at his own actions, a hand reaching upward to cover his mouth in shock, “Oh, dear. My utmost apologies.” Garak placed a hand on Julian’s shoulder, either as a gesture of comfort or just an excuse to touch, Julian couldn’t say, “Julian, I’m right behind you. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Garak didn’t remove his hand, and it was warm and firm, and a little distracting, but Julian thought that if maybe, maybe if he took a step closer that might even the playing field. Stepping into Garak’s space, Julian scolded, “You’re late.”

Garak held up a large bag draped over his arm, taking that as an excuse to take a step even closer, his hand moving down to Julian’s bicep in a familiar movement, grip more gentle, but his fingers in the exact place they would need to be if he so decided to pull Julian closer in an act of courageous passion. Not that he would. Julian was just saying, if he wanted to, that was the right spot. “Cufflinks,” Garak explained, like that meant anything.

“That’s a suit.” Julian observed, making a very noble attempt not to flirt with Garak. Until he and Parmak were in the clear, until he- and Julian resented even thinking this- stole from Garak, Julian would not sleep with him. Would not sleep with Garak. Under any circumstances. If he were Julian Bashir Secret Agent, maybe he would give in a little, just get a taste of...well whatever Garak allowed him to taste really. But he wasn’t a secret agent, because this was real life, and Garak wasn’t some holodamsel ready to give up state secrets at the sight of Julian’s suave features and less than expert flirting techniques. If Garak was, well, Julian didn’t think he would like Garak quite as much as he did. And Julian liked Garak. Not in the all consuming way where Julian wrote love letters for two months after his first college girlfriend broke up with him. Which was still embarrassing and he wished that Amsha would just stop bringing it up for god-sake. No. What Julian felt for Garak was...simple. Julian wouldn’t say easy because nothing with Garak was easy, ever. But if he was going to sleep with Garak, it was going to be for something real. And real relationships didn’t begin with sleeping with someone then stealing their personal property.

They just didn’t.

Therefore, flirting and witty comebacks were off the table for Julian tonight. Julian began his list of do nots as Garak brushed their palms together as his bid his goodbyes earlier that day. The first was do not joke. The second was do not flirt. The third was do not be charming, which to be fair, kind of encompassed the first two, but Julian liked to be thorough. The list was an essential part of tonight, because he was pretty sure that their sometimes coquetos banter was just a prolonged game of foreplay for Garak. Which was weird. And very hot. Mostly hot. Did he mention, hot?

This was going to be a long night.

“It’s a suit that has cufflinks.” Garak corrected, moving past Julian, leaving a bare spot where his hand used to be on Julian’s arm, while fishing out his store keys. With a jingle and a quick click and turn, Garak pushed the door open, nodding at Julian to follow him inside.

A warm gust of air swooped against Julian’s cheeks, his eyes automatically watering at the temperature difference, his clothes clinging to his back almost instantly. Garak closed the door behind him and locked it, then came up behind Julian placing his hand very strategically at the small of his back, pushing him toward the backroom. “I think we should get started right away.” He said, breath hot on Julian’s neck, voice low in the space of the shop. Julian was not going to sleep with Garak.

It seemed Garak had other plans.

“Sure. Fine. Whatever you think is best.” Julian agreed nervously, suddenly very self conscious of his hands. What does one do with one’s hands? Should he cross his arms? Pockets? Maybe just flex his fingers? No. Shit.

From behind, Garak moved the curtain out of their way. As they walked his hands moved up Julian’s back onto his shoulders, seductively circling toward the back of his neck, “Can I take your coat?” In that same low tone, right against his ear, so close that he could hear the rumble of his voice before the words breathed.

“Y-yeah.” Julian said, surprisingly sort of even. It wasn’t the business-like candor he was going for, but Garak was already pulling the Jacket off his back, his knuckles scraping down Julian’s spine for a moment too long, both sensual and agonizing. Fuck-Julian really needed to get laid.

 _Not tonight_ , he reminded himself firmly.

Garak laid Julian’s jacket carefully on the back of the chair beside his sewing station, patterns strewn about the table, pins and pencils a chaotic mess on top of whatever fabric he was designing. Then he held up the suit by the hanger, and delicately pulled the plastic wrapping off of it. “Would you like to try this on in one of the fitting rooms?” He asked, not looking at Julian.

“As opposed to?”

As if he were waiting for Julian to ask, Garak’s eyes shot up to him with a mischievous grin, discarding the plastic in a waste bin to the side, “You could try it on out here. I could even help you undress, if you’d like.”

_Holy hell._

“Umm, well, I mean. We could um-” Julian coughed, “I should-I mean we should, um, the thing is-” His eyes pinched together as he swallowed. “You have a- and then there’s-” He huffed out a harsh breath, finally deciding to settle, “Dressing room’s fine.”

Garak smiled, reminiscent of a time where Julian could say clever thoughts and witty comments, rather than the present where Julian was unwittingly following rules one, two, and three to the letter. It was comforting to know that Garak must have it bad too, if this stuttering Julian alone wasn’t enough to send him running. Garak pressed the suit into Julian’s twitching hands, shooing him into one of the curtained closets. “Take your time.” Without a moment to process his new surroundings, Julian was left with the suit in one hand, and the curtain still swaying back and forth as he heard Garak’s footsteps click away toward the upstairs.

Right.

He changed into the suit as quickly as possible, perfunctory and automatically, like this was something that he did often, instead of something he was currently doing. If he took his time, if he focused too much on his movements, on the fabric against his skin, who knew what kind of pornorgraphic things might pop into his head? Thoughts of Garak turning up the heat to make their clothing optional and too much. A fully clothed Garak slipping Julian’s jacket off his shoulders, and not stopping there. He could not fantasize about Garak, pushing open the curtain and joining him in the tiny space, pressing his back against the wall as his hands moved to Julian’s hips, his lips biting down on his shoulder, not hard. Not yet. He especially couldn’t fantasize about Garak’s right hand moving downwards, the other moving up to wrap around Julian’s mouth, eyes dark with desire and clarity- his right hand cupping Julian’s dick through the trousers he had made, the trousers he forced Julian to try on in front of him.

Julian definitely could not fantasize about that.

A brisk knock at the outside of the room startled Julian from his thoughts. “How is everything?” Garak asked mildly from the other side of the curtain, his black shoes peeking into the dressing room.

Julian pulled the curtain open, holding out his arms for inspection. “I feel like I should be asking you that.”

Garak took a step back, and swallowed uncomfortably, his fingers brushing the side of his pant-leg like he was trying to stop himself from doing something. He cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue, the sides of his jaw flexing with the movement. “Why-” He shallowly huffed out a breath and licked his lips, “You look quite becoming, Doctor.” Garak blinked at Julian again, his eye ridges arched in soft amazement, “Very becoming, indeed.”

Julian looked down, as if trying to see himself what Garak saw. _Just a bloody suit_ , Julian thought to himself, pressing his hands down the open lapels. Garak walked forward, bridging the gap between them, presenting a drink in front of Julian’s face. Pulling back, Julian looked between the drink and Garak. “Is this for me?” Julian shifted, his arm uncomfortably reaching up between their chests to wrap his palm around the bottom of the glass.

“I thought it could help us...unwind a little.” Garak said, presenting his own glass of, not wine, possibly a Klingon, Brandy-like drink that would be wasted on him. Garak smiled and clinked their glasses together, “To old rivalries and blossoming rapports.”

Julian raised his eyebrows with an unfettered smile, “Funny. Cheers, to casuistry and to whatever deception the night may bring.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Garak uttered suggestively, voice dropping into a low rumble not like his normal light cadence. Watching Julian with shark-like eyes, he drank his glass fully in one long swig, throat working the alcohol down visibly through the muscle there.

Julian only took a sip from his drink, entranced, as Garak sat the glass down with a bit of force on his workshop table, tongue clicking against his lips almost as a summons for Julian to get the fuck with the program.

Julian stopped the whine bubbling to the surface from the back of his throat, setting down his drink with a bit of care. “Did you want to check the suit to make sure it fits right?” He asked, belatedly realizing that- that kind of sounded like a come-on, didn’t it? Trying to mend this situation, he added, “I can take it off if you want to make alterations…” _For the love of_ \- He continued, trying to rectify some semblance of decency here, “Or you could just mark it up while I’m wearing it.”

_Christ, Julian._

Garak snorted through his nose, pieces of hair falling from his loosely tied bun perched on the top of his head. “That all sounds very tempting.” He turned away slightly and opened the top drawer stacked inside the desk closest to him, and rummaged through, pulling out a short white piece of chalk. “But I think it only needs a few minor adjustments.”

Before Julian could even sense a by your leave, Garak rounded behind him, pulling his shoulders out of their perpetual slouch position, and made a light mark just along each shoulder, hands quickly moving down his side, stopping by his hip. Julian closed his eyes, willing every part of himself to stay very still. He vividly felt Garak make light, barely there markings down the side of the blazer, then walk around to the front. “Is something wrong?” Garak asked very innocently.

Julian opened his eyes, just to have the pleasure of sending him a dirty look. Then answered, with a lightness that he certainly didn’t feel, “No. Take your time.”

Garak titled his head in inspection, then said with clear juvenility and enjoyment, “I thought you said I could mark you wherever I liked?”

Julian blinked once. Then twice. Then crossed his arms with a cough, uncomfortably hot. “You know very well that’s not what I said,” Julian articulated forcefully, a whisp of air following the what, in a faltered sort of way.

Garak smirked, then sank to his knees, never dropping Julian’s gaze. Julian gulped, and snapped his eyes toward the ceiling. He implicitly understood that Garak was toying with him, that insofar he’s done nothing explicitly unreasonable, and to anyone else it would look like Julian was making a scene over nothing. However, this was Garak, and Garak wasn’t one for overt seduction. Such was made obvious when Garak started marking up the trousers without his nearly permanent mischievous show of teeth, his hands now professional and discrete.

Esoteric persuasion.

Garak found declarations of intent pedantic and over-done. The only way he and Julian would get it on was if Julian answered the curve of Garak’s smile, the coy flutter of his eyes, the light but carefully guided touch of Garak’s fingertips….with his own. On any other night, Julian would find this tantalizing display very welcome, and he might very well try to supercede Garak’s flirtatious attempts in some voyeuristic display of taut wanton indecency.

_But not tonight._

Garak stood and took a step back, discarding the chalk on one of the side tables beside him. “I’ll have Amsha bring the suit with the alterations back home tomorrow. For now, however,” Garak’s eyes flickered up and down, half lidded and slow, “why don’t you just leave the suit on my station over there,” he pointed across the room, “and meet me upstairs?”

Julian narrowed his eyes, head following Garak with a considering expression as he walked back toward the dressing room, “And what are you planning upstairs?”

Garak dipped his head toward him, casting one last appreciative glance over Julian, and shrugged knowingly. With a final tap against the sewing station, Garak warned, “Don’t keep me waiting,” then swivelled toward the upper story.

Julian pulled the curtain tightly around the doorway, and breathed in and out slowly, counting the rhythm of the cadence with his eyes screwed shut. _I can do this_ , he thought to himself in the darkness of the suite. He could do this, right? Positive thought. That’s all anything took. Positive thought. It was the most human and sometimes the most effective coping mechanism. Julian Bashir could do anything he put his mind to. With that, Julian chanted silently to himself, _Not tonight_ , until the words became less semantic and more of a mantra, words running into each other like a river into a bayside, building on one and all.

Not tonight.

Not tonight.

Not tonight.

He repeated this over to himself, as he stripped off the suit, crafted together by Garaks’ long deft fingers. He repeated this over to himself as he laid the tux over Garak’s work table. He repeated this over to himself, as he opened the upper story door and ascended the stairs slowly. _Not tonight_ , he thought with each step, progressing deeper and deeper into the serpent’s den.

At the apex of the stairway, Julian’s breath caught. The overhead lights were close to nonexistent, misty and faraway, like the sliver of sun left before a dusky night. Candles were strung around the apartment in a soft golden crystallized light, flickering flames bathing his tenebrous surroundings in a rubescent baked glow. The faint percussion of music played, wrapping around Julian’s chest in a tender beat that was particular only to a Bajoran namesake. Julian tugged at his collar, the heat of the flat apparent and flexible, sliding down Julian’s back and up and around his neck like a serpent’s tail, ready for the scriptural _taking_.

Garak appeared, two glasses of wine in hand, changed from his earlier attire. A black sweater, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearm. His neckline dipped in a wide sharp _V_ , his neck ridges keenly swelled, the skin there dusted with a nebulous cerulean blue, sparkling in the candlelight. Garak’s lips stretched into the curve of his cheek, with a fondness and warmth that quickly sank into ravenous as he walked toward Julian, his eyes a starry sky amongst the horrow’s smoky flush, collapsing into an anticipation that Julian knew he couldn’t meet.

But fuck did he feel it.

“I took the liberty of getting more comfortable.” Garak said soft and weighted, handing him a glass. “I hope I am not being presumptuous when I urge you to do the same.”

Julian took the glass with a shaking hand, licking his lips as he stared Garak up and down. He knew what he was supposed to say, within several variations of the same speech. Not a single script called for him to kick off his shoes with two quick movements. None of it called him to give Garak a small, secretive smile as he downed the small splash of wine in his glass in a single swift movement. None of it called for him to press his glass into Garak’s hand so their fingers brushed, electric and not at all satisfying, not yet. Not one script called for him to whisper, seductively and without shame, “Not presumptuous at all.”

But that’s what he did.

Something in Garak changed then, a switch flicked from _plausible deniability_ to _forethought intention_. Not an if, but a when. And then not a question but an answer. Not a when, but a now. Garak downed his glass too, holding both their glasses like he might just drop them, because the anticipation was killing him just as much as it was Julian. Nostrils flaring, Garak tilted his head, in a hold on motion while he moved across the room and set both the glasses down onto the table. Then, pressing his back to one of the dining chairs, he began, “We could…” Garak took in a shallow breath, shoulders rising in nervousness or yearning, it was impossible to say.

Julian took a few long strides meeting Garak at the table, pressing his hands to Garak’s shoulders, pressing them down to his chest, meeting his eyes. His heart thudded so thoroughly he could hardly breathe properly. Lust clouding his own speech, Julian huffed out, “Your room, yeah?”

Garak’s hand reached up to caress the side of Julian’s jaw, carding through his hair in wonder, “I understand that now is long past being forward, but...is it too forward to say that you are truly magnificent, Julian Bashir?”

Julian’s heart stopped, his skin rushed with warmth and shaky adorance. Shuddering with want, he dropped his forehead to Garak’s, and with a smile in his voice, he replied, “Not too forward. But I haven’t gotten laid in months, so if you want me to last, you might want to keep those thoughts to yourself for the time being.”

Garak’s eyes were black as he took Julian’s hand in his own, pulling him toward his quarters with a fervor that Julian understood implicitly. They moved past the kitchen and living room into the hallway, stopping at the first door on the left. Garak turned the knob, tugged Julian inside, and closed the door behind them. He shifted for a moment, looking toward the bed and then back to Julian. “Lights? Did you want-”

“Yes.” Julian agreed immediately, and Garak gave a sharp nod. Keeping his gaze, Garak’s hand stretched behind Julian, turning the dial so the lights brought the room to the dim glow not unlike the rest of the apartment.

“I need-” Garak paused for a beat in consideration, “I need to get supplies, in-” He flicked his head toward the open door of the room’s adjoining washroom.

“I’ll wait,” Julian assured him, squeezing his bicep with a firm hand. Garak inhaled sharply, then pulled away, rushing out of the room lest Julian should leave.

Julian glanced around the room, the bed, the clothing strewn about along the chairs in the corners of the suite, then to the dresser-

It was like a splash of cold water. His misty vision slapped with a brisk clarity as his eyes landed on a particular pair of cufflinks that had a very striking resemblance to the ones Parmak described only a short while ago. The ones he was supposed to steal. The cufflinks he was going to steal. In one quick movement, he snatched the cufflinks and pushed them into his trouser pocket.

“Julian?”

Julian snapped around to Garak, standing there with a question in his features, bottle of lube in one hand and condom in the other. “Everything alright?” Garak asked, eye ridges drawn together in scrutiny.

Julian couldn’t do this, could he? He couldn’t sleep with Garak. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not any day because Julian was about to betray him, without batting a fucking eye. Julian was about to steal from Garak because of a stupid promise and break his trust, and he couldn’t fucking sleep with him because that would be just… that’s not how he wanted their relationship to be. Deceptive, distrusting, wary doubt. Cruel.

Julian didn’t think he was this way.

“No.” Julian said softly, “It’s not alright.” He winced as Garak’s shoulders dropped. “I can’t do this.” Julian wrung his hands together to stop them from reaching out, as Garak pursed his lips, soft, wonderful, glassy eyes working their ever eternal guard back up to the surface. “I’m sorry.” He said, knowing that, it wasn’t enough. Would never be enough.

“Did I _do_ something?” Garak asked, voice small and unlike anything Julian’s ever heard from him before.

“No. Of course you didn’t. It’s just-”

“I must have-”

“I don’t know you.” Julian began as an excuse, but as the words left his lips, he realized that they were true. Julian hardly knew Garak, hardly knew how they’d be together. Those cufflinks...they were a one way ticket back into Tain’s good graces. Why was Garak keeping them, why were they out and open like they were about to be _used_? What did Garak want with Tain?

What did Garak want with Julian?

“ _No one_ knows me.” Garak replied simply, like this was an age old argument.

“Yeah,” Julian agreed, suddenly very tired, “I’m sure no one does.” Garak stood there in silence, and Julian realized he must not have anything to add to that, or say, or do or fucking anything. Julian nodded to himself. “I’ll go.”

Julian slid out of the room, his hand gripped around the cufflinks like a promise. He slipped on his shoes and coat, and jogged down the stairs. He then weaved through the luminescent workshop and opened the door to the icy outside, his chest wound tight. Shoving all intrusive thoughts from his mind, he began his long trek home.

“Julian, wait!”

Julian paused and turned. Garak stood out in the cold, only in his back sweater and barefoot, arms protectively crossed against the chilly air. Without waiting for him to reply, Garak jogged toward him, hands curled into cold ruby fists, cheeks losing color in each moment of the outdoors. “Garak, go back inside.” Julian commanded, becoming concerned at Garak’s immediate shortness of breath.

“I hold great hostility toward Bajor.” Garak said out of the blue, coming up on him, “Strangers loathe me upon first glance. The air is humid and cold and generally unpleasant, even in their summer months. Their temples never have enough private prayer rooms, and I’m always forced to share with the small children that do not yet know prayer requires silence for many. Bajor is not my home. But when I’m with you-” Garak puffed out a cold breath, “When I’m with you none of that matters as much, to me.”

“Garak-” Julian began, not quite sure what to say to that.

“I know that to you I may seem cold, or detached, or unknowable, but believe me, my dear Doctor...I am none of those things.” Garak stepped forward, wrapping his frigid fingers around the crook of Julian’s elbow.

“Mister Garak,” Julian whispered lightly in baffled wonder, cool air clouding the space between them.

“Come upstairs,” Garak said, tugging at his elbow. “We’ll talk. Properly.”

Julian regarded him, and the chill in the air, then relinquished his hold on the cufflinks, pulling his hand out of his pocket. “Properly? Like about-”

“About whatever you like.” Garak reassured with a small smile, eyes twinkling with a carefree glow.

“Really?”

“I trust you.” Garak said, and for some reason, this felt like a culmination that would have no match in their relationship. Love, acceptance, understanding, joy. None of these could match to Garak saying these three words.

Julian followed him back upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, but I'm back. Sleeves rolled up/ Semester done/ Ready to get back on the wagon that I seem to jump off every other chapter. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one! Thanks for keeping up and reading with me!


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